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The Son of a Millioniare 

A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 



All Rights Reserved 



Copyright, 1910, 

by 

George L. Raymond, 

1810 N St. Waihington, D, C. 






€C1.D 20782 



PM««OF«rBON 8. ADAM*, WA«M., O. ^ 



Characters 

Bert VanWorth — ^The Son of a Millionaire. 

Hugh Wright— The Son of a College Professor, Brother of Ida 
Wright. 

Pete Bennett — A Student working his way through College. 

Ebk"^™:1c°"^«^ students. 

Dr. Cator — Family Physician of the Van Worths. 
Dr. Money — Treasurer of the College, 

Ida Wright — The Daughter of a College Professor, Sister of Hugh. 
Mrs. VanWorth — Wife of a Millionaire, Mother of Bert. 
Other College Students and Expressmen. 



Argument 



Act I. — The widow of a millionaire, Mrs. VanWorth, by an offer of 
money, induces a College Treasurer and Hugh, the son of a pro- 
fessor, to allow her own son, a Freshman, Bert, to occupy, in a 
college dormitory, an exceptionally comfortable room reserved by 
rule for upper-classmen. Ida, Hugh's sister, anticipating hazing 
in the circumstances, opposes the arrangement. This awakens 
Mrs. VanWorth's enmity, to which she is heard giving expression. 
Certain students, resenting the fact of such a room's being occu- 
pied by a Freshman, as well as the dislike expressed for Ida, 
dress like fashionable young ladies and induce Mrs. VanWorth 
to invite them, apparently so much more ladylike than Ida, to her 
home. Mrs. VanWorth and Bert are astonished to find that 
vulgar students have dar3d to make fools of them. 

Act II. — Bert's mother and his family's connections have gotten him 
into a dissipated college fraternity. On account of his associates, 
Ida's father will not let her ride in Bert's automobile, and a brainy, 
literary society that he, as a brainy man, is anxious to join, rather 
than appear to bootlick a millionaire, picks quarrels with him, 
humiliates him, and rejects him. 

Act III. — In spite of Bert's wish to conceal the facts, it is found out 
that he has paid ofT a large debt of the athletic association ; has 
given a poor student who had lost his situation enough to enable 
him and his sister to continue their education ; and has proposed 
to his mother to pay a salary that will keep the father of his best 
friend from losing his professorship. These acts are attributed to 
a desire, on his part, to obtain college popularity, offices, and 
honors through bribery, and even through pandering to the mean- 
est of motives. Meantime Ida, though believing in Bert, is so in- 
sulted by Mrs. VanWorth's superciliousness as to feel obliged to 
repel Bert's attentions to herself. 

Act IV. — Mrs. VanWorth tries in vain to obtain from the Doctor 
a certificate that Bert, though of legal age, is not competent to 
control the disposal of his own property. The reason is that he, 
while keeping enough for all rational purposes, has determined to 
give away what is not needed, as, e. g., one large estate for a 
Junior Republic, two sums endowing professorships, one of them 
for himself and one for Flugh's father. No longer a millionaire, 
he has been elected, on his own merits, to be a professor in the 
college. Before he enters upon his work he is to spend two years 
in Europe. Feeling now on the same social level as Ida, he 
invites her to spend these years with him, and then to return and 
spend the rest of her life with him in her old college home. She 
accepts. 



The Son of a Millionaire 

ACT I. 

As A Freshman in College. 

Scene : The stage, which remains unchanged throughout the play, 
represents a conventional room in a College Dormitory. At the 
back center are a mantelpiece and fireplace, by the side of which 
is a stand containing a shovel and tongs. On either side of the 
mantelpiece, to the Right and Left, are windozvs. Beside them are 
small book cases, and under them seats filled with sofa cushions. 
On the walls hang pictures, college flags, foils and at least two 
pairs of boxing gloves. In the room is a table on zvhich are books, 
paper, pens, ink, cigars and a match-box. Around the table are 
chairs. Entrances by doors at the Right Second and Right Upper, 
and Left Second and Left Upper. All the doors except at 
Left Second stand open. Throughout the play, all the men 
wear or carry caps or hats when they enter the room at the 
Left Second or when they leave by that entrance; and all the 
women are in outdoor costume. The curtain rising reveals Dan, 
Pete, Ben and Other Students, all with caps in their hands, 
singing College Songs. 

Dan {putting on his cap and moving toward the Left Second). No 
prospect of Hugh's, being here just yet! I move to adjourn. 

Exit — Left Second — Dan, Pete, Ben and the Other Students. 

Enter — Left Second — Mr. Money. He stands holding the door 
open. 

Enter — Left Second — Mrs. Van Worth, Dr. Cator and Bert Van- 
Worth. 

Mrs. VanWorth {speaking to the Doctor). It was very kind 
of you to come down and introduce us here, Doctor. Your Alma 
Mater certainly seems the very place for Bertie. But the dormi- 
tory arrangements appear so primitive and uncomfortable ! 
{Speaking to Mr. Money and looking around). Is this a student's 
room? 

Mr. Money. Oh yes ! Just now it belongs to the son of one of our 
professors. It's on the first floor, as you see, and close by the 
entrance. So, while the new students are coming in, we are using 
it as a sort of reception room. 



6 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Mrs. Van Worth. A very pleasant one, too! Can I look about 
here? 

Mr. Money. Certainly. 

She moves toward the Right Upper Entrance, then compares what 
she sees beyond it with what she sees beyond the Left Upper En- 
trance. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Two bedrooms — ^^qiiite large — with sunny out- 
look! (She looks through the Right Second Entrance.) And 
here — why ! a bathroom with all the modern conveniences ! There 
was nothing of this sort in the other dormitories that you showed 
us. 

Mr. Money. Oh no ! They were rooms for the Freshmen. These 
are reserved for the upper classes. 

Mrs. VanWorth (glancing at the Doctor tn a confused way). 
Upper classes ! 

Bert. He means in the College sense, mother. 

Doctor. College is a world in itself, you know. Upperclass people 
outside of it are those who have been in society a generation or 
two; inside of it they are those who have been in college a year 
or two. 

Mrs. VanWorth. A very arbitrary distinction, I should say ! 

Doctor. It is — in both cases. 

Mrs. VanWorth. My son belongs to a class that has had a bath- 
room at home. He ought to have one here. 

Bert. Oh, mother, I can get along without it ! 

Mrs. VanWorth. The animals in the zoological garden can get 
along without a tank, but they can keep cleaner with one (looking 
critically into the room at the Right Upper). Are both these 
rooms occupied? This one seems vacant. 

Mr. Money. It is just now. The one who had it last year is not 
coming back. 

Mrs. VanWorth (looking toward the Doctor). Why, then — 

Doctor. I catch your thought. The surest place of refuge for one 
out of place is a vacancy. It rids him of the trouble of upsetting 
the plans of others, in order to set up his own. No need of 
fighting for an empty niche when using eyes can find one. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Precisely. If the room be vacant, why — 

Bert. But, mother, if there be a college law against it — 

Mr. Money. It is not exactly a college law. One might call it a 
tradition. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Oh, only that! What, exactly, is the tradition? 

Mr. Money. What I said. These rooms usually go to the upper- 
classmen. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 7 

Mrs. VanWorth. I will tell you, Doctor, we can make that all 

right. {To Mr. Money) If Bertie had been here last year, how 

much would he have paid? 
Mr. Money. For his room? For the whole year, you mean? 
Mrs. VanWorth, Yes, and for board, too. 
Mr. Money. Oh, between four and live hundred dollars. 
Mrs. VanWorth. Now if we pay you that amount, although he 

was not here, he'll be related to the college — will he not? — exactly 

as he would have been if he had been here? 
Mr. Money. You mean to the treasury of the college? 
Mrs. VanWorth. Yes. 
Bert. But, mother, I don'i want them to treat me any differently 

from other students. 
Mrs. VanWorth. So little comes to us in any way, my boy, that none 

of us can afford not to avail ourselves of our advantages. What's 

the use of having a fortune if you're obliged to live like a farmer? 

{To the Doctor) You know I can never get this boy to look out 

for himself. 
Bert. Not your fault, mother ! You have tried to train me to it 

hard enough. 
Doctor {to Bert). And you think that, besides looking out, one 

occasionally needs to look in, eh? 
Bert. Yes ; the farmer may have as much to think about as if he 

were always thinking of a fortune ; and what one thinks makes up 

the most of what one's life is. 
Mrs. VanWorth {to Doctor). Isn't he a strange child. Doctor? 
Doctor. So strange, I think you are quite right in giving him an 

education. Only one in three or four of those who come here 

seems to think enough to make that project worth while. 
Mrs. VanWorth. What do they come here for, then? 
Dr. Cator. They must go somewhere at their age. One couldn't 

keep them at home, and have much pleasure there. Here they can 

get rid of their surplus energy by knocking and kicking around 

for a time in athletics, and, when they get through with that, 

they can play billiards in the University Club. 
Mrs. VanWorth. I thought they came here to cultivate their un- 
derstanding. 
Dr. Cator. So they do ; but part of everybody's understanding is 

in his heels. 
Bert. And those that cultivate only their heels are in danger of 

using them, by and by, mainly in trampling other people down. 
Dr. Cator. Where did you learn that, Bert? When your father 

made his toss for you he landed something with the head up. 
Mrs. VanWorth {to Mr. Money). But about this room, Mr. 

Money. Is there any objection to the conditions that I mentioned? 

You kn6w I would rather pay double the five hundred dollars 

than have my son uncomfortable. 



8 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Mr. Money. I hardly see how there could be any objection on the 

part of the college. The students — 
Mrs. VanWorth. Oh, we could make it all right with them ! You 

mean the one that rooms here? 
Mr. Money. Yes, mainly; yes, of course. 
Mrs. VanWorth. The son of a professor, you say? There isn't 

any son of a professor, is there, who wouldn't like to room with 

the son of a millionaire? There are quite a number of things, 

you know, that we could do for him. I imagine we could repay 

him at least for this room. 
Mr. Money. Of course. 1 think, though, that I ought to ask him 

first. You see the situation is unusual. Why, here he comes ! 

Enter — Left Second — Hugh. 

{To Hugh) We are using your room, Hugh, as we threatened 
to do. 

Enter — Left Second — Ida. 

Ah, Miss Ida, too. {To Mrs. VanWorth) Mrs. VanWorth, 
this is Miss Ida Wright, and Mr. Hugh Wright {to Ida and 
Hugh) Dr. Cator and Mr. VanWorth. This young gentlemen 
has been looking for a room. They are not satisfied with any- 
thing that I have shown them. 

Bert. I beg your pardon, Mr. Money. I'm well enough satisfied. 
It's mother you mean. 

Mr. Money. Yes, of course. But, of course, you want to do as 
your mother wishes. Mrs. VanWorth has offered to pay {looking 
at Mrs. VanWorth) — 

Mrs. VanWorth. A thousand dollars. 

Mr. Money. A thousand dollars — twice as much as the young man 
would have paid already, if he had been here last year — in case the 
college will waive the fact that he was not here, and allow him to 
room with you. 

Hugh. I see. 

Mr. Money. And will you allow it? 

Hugh. Humph! It would hardly be right to deprive the college of 
a thousand dollars. 

Ida {to Hugh). But Hugh — 

Mrs. VanWorth {to Mr. Money). It doesn't concern the young 
lady, does it? 

Ida {to Mrs. VanWorth). No; not directly. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Is the room engaged? 

Doctor {mischievously). Perhaps she wishes it for something that 
will be. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 9 

Ida. Beg your pardon. I wasn't thinking of any one in particular, 
but of the college traditions. I thought that it might not be 
pleasant. 

Mrs. VanWorth. For your brother, I suppose. (To Bert) Not 
very flattering for you, Bert. 

Ida. Oh, I am sorry ! I wasn't thinking of him, either, except as 
he would be a Freshman in an upper-classman's room. 

Mrs. VanWorth. But you understand. We have made that all 
right. 

Ida. Yes, I understand; but there are so many kinds of understand- 
ing. One can never judge of what other people will understand. 
(To Hugh) You think you ought to do it, Hugh? 

Hugh. Why not? — if Mr. Money thinks it all right. He's the one 
in charge here. 

Mrs. VanWorth. We can have the room, then? 

Hugh. So far as I am concerned, yes. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Come right in today? 

Hugh. Certainly. 

Bert. But, mother — 

Mrs. VanWorth (to Bert). Oh, my boy, my boy, you will never 
have any success in life unless you learn to avail yourself of your 
opportunities. Think of what a chance this is. (To Hugh) You 
are very kind, Mr. Wright. (To Bert) Far better than we could 
have expected. (To Hugh) And there are ways in which I think 
that we can prove to you, by and by, that it was quite wise for 
you to be so accommodating. (To Bert) Let's go now and get 
the trunks, and then come back and get you settled. (To Hugh, 
ignoring Ida) Good by, Mr. Wright. 

Exeunt — Left Second — Mrs. VanWorth, the Doctor and Bert. 

Ida (to Hugh). Why did you let him come here? 

Hugh. How could I help it? Could the son of a professor, know- 
ing the financial condition of the college, refuse a contribution of 
a thousand dollars? 

Ida. But — for the sake of the young man ! You know how they'll 
haze him — a Freshman buying his way into an upper-classman's 
room! 

Hugh. The experience may do him good. 

Ida. But what'll it do for you? If you have a row here, it's you 
will be held responsible — all the more so because the son of a 
professor. 

Hugh. Yes ; but think of the delight afforded the other professors 
in case the son of my father gets into trouble ! Besides, I shall 
die in a good cause. When you think of how a college president 
swells if he gets a thousand dollars, I, the mere son of a mere 
professor, can afford to burst. 



10 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Enter — Left Second — Dan Strong. 

Dan. Hello, Hugh ! Good day, Miss Ida. So you are the people 
we have just been hearing about! 

Hugh. How so? 

Dan. Didn't that old woman and her Freshman son go out of here 
just now — with old "Money bags"? 

Hugh. I think that describes the party. 

Dan. Do you know what she said? 

Hugh. Who? 

Dan. The old woman. 

Hugh. What was it? 

Dan (imitating). "Bertie," she said, "did you notice how I kept 
down that uppish young woman? It's very important to learn 
how, merely by one's manner, to indicate the distance that sepa- 
rates a person of that sort from oneself." (To Ida) Were j^ou 
the uppish young woman, Miss Ida? 

Ida. I fear I was. 

Dan. I hope you felt properly humiliated. 

Ida. I hope so. 

Dan. Like a lamb kicked by a goat, I suppose. You know, I never 
like to see a woman kick. Her dress doesn't go with it. It seems 
as if she ought to trip up ; or, if she doesn't do it of herself, be 
made to do it by somebod> else. 

Hugh. Oh, that's only the mother ! She's a fool. The boy appears 
to be quite a decent fellow. 

Dan (to Ida). What was the matter? Did you have a quarrel with 
her? What did she caution her boy against you for? 

Hugh. Ida wanted to keep me from letting him room with me 
here? 

Dan. Letting him room with you? 

Hugh. Yes. 

Dan. a freshman? — going to room here? 

Hugh. You see I couldn't well get out of it. The old woman 
offered Money-bags a thousand dollars — twice as much as the col- 
lege would have received if her boy had been here a whole year — 
on the condition that the college would treat him just as if he 
had been here, and so let him into this room. Of course, I couldn't 
refuse to allow the college to get a thousand dollars. 

Dan. I see— but she ! — why didn't she offer four thousand dollars 
and get his diploma for him without his coming here at all? 
Humph! There's only one thing for us to do. 

Hugh. What's that? 

Dan. Stand up for the college, maintain its dignity, and show him 
there are a few things here that money can't buy. One thing is 
the experience of Freshman year. 

Ida. What did I tell you, Hugh? 



The Son of a Millionaire. 11 

Dan. When you were uppish, eh? They should have harkened to 
you. Those who are too stupid to take hints have to be trained 
at times by getting hits. Who are these money slingers, anyway? 

Hugh. Why, the Van Worths. 

Dan. Are they! and that young fellow, I suppose, is the heir that 
the papers have been talking so much about? We can give them 
more to talk about. 

Hugh. But, really, he seems quite respectable. He didn't want 
to room here. It was his mother. She almost forced it on him. 

Dan. All right ! Then we must deal with his mother, too. 

Hugh. You are logical, Dan. But logic is a lance that never hits 
what lies outside its range. 

Dan. And is never used by a wise man except on what gets inside 
his range. Isn't she coming back here again today? 

Hugh. Yes, I think so. They have gone after the trunks. 

Dan. Well, I shall be back soon to help her; and I purpose to 
bring some town-girls with me, girls that will do what you, Miss 
Ida, apparently, can't do. 

Ida. What's that? 

Dan. Command — enforce — her respect. 

Ida. How so? 

Dan. In a book, and, sometimes, in other places, where there is 
danger that people can't understand what is said, a footnote is 
brought in (kicking out his foot). When this is done, sometimes 
one uses a star if he can. Do you recall Ben Wylie, the star 
actress of our college-comedy last term? 

Hugh. You don't mean? — 

Dan. He has all his fuss-up in his closet now; and for two days 
has been fluttering around all the Freshmen on the ground like a 
forty-year old maid— excuse me Miss Ida— in an endeavor to 
make some practical use of it. 

Hugh (laughing). Oh, Dan ! 

Dan. And, Miss Ida, you must stay and help us. 

Ida. Oh, I can't do that! 

Dan. Yes you can. You can't avoid it, when you think of all the 
fun. Come, promise me that you'll stay. The whole thing will 
be so much more effective if we have a real lady present. The 
contrast between the uppish and (stroking his chin) the downish 
will be so artistic. 

Ida. Well, I'll think about it. 

Dan. "I go, but I return." 

Exit— Left Second — Dan. 

Ida (to Hugh). Of course, I oughtn't to stay. 

Hugh. I don't know. Perhaps you ought. You see, if you do, 

they'll be much more gentlemanly— perhaps I ought to say more 

ladylike. 



12 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Ida. Will make less noise, you think? 

Hugh. Yes; and the faculty will be much less likely to find us out. 
Besides, if they do find us out — either the faculty or the Van- 
Worths, for that matter — they'll be less likely to fancy the trick 
planned or even known by me beforehand. They wouldn't think 
that I would want to have you present at a premeditated hazing. 
{Knock at the door at Left Second) Come in. 

Enter — Left Second — Mrs. VanWorth and Bert. 

Ah, back again ! We had hardly expected you so soon. 
Mrs. VanWorth. We found the expressman just outside on the 

campus. He is going to get the trunks and bring them up right 

off. {Looking at Ida rather superciliously) I see your sister is 

here yet. 
Hugh. Yes ; during the vacation she has been here, doing more or 

less studying with me. After this, of course, she'll have to stay 

at home. 
Mrs. VanWorth {still addressing Hugh). What has she been 

studying? 
Hugh. The same things that I have. She intends to go through 

the whole course with me. 
Mrs. VanWorth. This is not a coeducational institution? 
Hugh. Oh no, she doesn't attend recitations or lectures. She 

merely studies; and I help her out; or, if I can't, father does it. 
Mrs. VanWorth. I should be afraid that studying all the while 

she would have but little time left for what is so important in a 

young woman — to learn that which comes from going into society. 
Hugh. To tell the truth, Mrs. VanWorth, I'm afraid there isn't 

very much of what you would term society here. What society 

we have is mainly made up of the fellows. 
Mrs. VanWorth. And a fellow is not exactly the term that one 

would like to apply to a person who is to associate with his sister, 
Bert. Oh, but, mother, as a college term, it means, you know — 
Mrs. VanWorth. I fear it means that the standards of society 

are not always maintained by our young men when away from 

home. 
Hugh. Really, now, Mrs. VanWorth — 
Mrs. VanWorth. Of course, Mr. Wright, one would expect you 

to defend them. It's perfectly proper too. You were brought up 

in this atmosphere, so to speak. Are there many young ladies in 

town ? 
Hugh {thinking of the expected comedy-actors). Yes — such as 

they are ! 
Mrs. Van Worth (to Bert). Did you hear that, Bertie? {To 

Hugh) You know, of course, the customs of the city and of the 

country are different. We have been very careful about Bertie, 



The Son of a Millionaire. 13 

and, in case you should find him not associating with the people 
of the town as much as you might expect, you will understand 
his feelings, and know what his reasons are. 
Hugh. Certainly. 

Knock at Left Second Entrance. 

Hugh goes to open the door. 

Enter — Left Second — Expressmen with two trunks. 

(The trunks are placed at the Right, unstrapped by the Express- 
men, and then unlocked and opened by Bert.) 

Exeunt — Left Second — Expressmen. 

Enter — Left Second — Dan Strong. 

Hugh. Oh, is this you, Dan? (To Mrs. Van Worth) Mrs. Van- 
Worth, this is Mr. Strong, and (to Dan) this is Mr. Van Worth. 
He is coming here to room with me. 

(Mrs. Van Worth boivs. Bert rises from the trunk that he has 
been opening, moves tozvard Dan, and, as Dan puts out his hand, 
takes it and shakes it.) 

Dan (to Hugh). Is he? (To Bert) I congratulate you. Such 
comfortable quarters ! — and Hugh is such a fine fellow, and goes 
with such a fine set ! 

Bert. Yes. 

Dan. Yes, of course — the son of a professor, you know — and so 
much better for you than if he went with a set of hazers ! 

Mrs. VanWorth. Hazers? Do they have them in this college? 

Dan. I should rather think they had ! You know James H. Gore, 
don't you, the great criminal lawyer of New York? 

Mrs. VanWorth. I know who he is. 

Dan. Well, they say they killed his son here a few years ago — 
put him under the pump, and gave him pneumonia. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Under the pump? 

Dan. Why, yes! You never heard of that? That's an old 
trick. Some time, when the thermometer is about twenty degrees 
below zero, it wouldn't be surprising to see a good part of the 
whole campus white with Freshmen in their nightgowns, all frozen 
to them, standing in line like the marble statues lining the Sieger 
Alley that one reads about in Berlin. 

Mrs. VanWorth (in evident agitation). What? 

Dan. Oh, not Hugh and his friends ! They don't do such things. 
That's the reason why I was congratulating your son. 

Mrs. VanWorth (to Dan). But you really mean to say — (She 
continues to talk to Dan at the left). 



14 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Ida (who has gone to the right, and is standing near Bert and ad- 
dressing him). You seem a little incredulous, Mr. VanWorth? 

Bert {glancing at her cautiously). Yes. 

Ida. To tell the truth, I'm rather glad of it. It's well for Fresh- 
men to be cautious, you know. There are all sorts of pitfalls 
here. If you tumble in too deeply when a Freshman it may be the 
end of Senior year before you can get out. 

Bert. I hardly expect to be made as easy a prey as that? 

Ida. I hope not. 

Bert {looking at her critically). Why not? 

Ida {rather embarrassed) . Why — you are going to room with my 
brother; and, next to having him popular himself, I should like 
to have him have a popular chum. 

Bert. Yes, I see. Thank you. It's well my mother came with me. 
This'll let them know something about our family. 

Dan {to Mrs. VanWorth, zvho has approached the trunks again). 
Can't I help you unpack, Mrs. VanWorth? 

Mrs. VanWorth. You are very kind. {She hands him a case in 
ivhich, exposed to view, are a silver hacked set of brushes and 
combs.) 

Dan. Why, these are fine ! How beautiful, and how appropriate ! 
{He takes them to the left, where arc Ida and Hugh, zvhile Bert 
stays at the right to help his mother) Just the things to go with 
this room ! No wonder they didn't want Bertie in a Freshman 
dormitory! {To Hugh and Ida, as he exhibits zvhat he holds) 
Did you ever see anything so ridiculous? {He places it on the 
table.) 

Hugh {smiling). Yes — in a novel. 

Dan. But then only when some one was going to be married. 

Hugh. I feel as if / were going to be married. He's to be my 
chum. 

Dan. You wait a little. {Glancing significantly toward the Left 
Second Entrance) I'll show you in a minute whom you ought to 
marry. (Mrs. VanWorth ajid Bert are taking from the trunk a 
gorgeous colored dressing gown and smoking cap. Dan, Hugh and 
Ida notice them) Look at those things, will you? — we'll have to 
found a new secret society, dress him up in them, and make him 
the high cockalorum of the whole shebang. 

Hugh. It's a pretty bad thing to be born with such a fool for a 

mother. 
Dan. But worse not to be weaned from her. {A knocking on the 

door at the Left Second) Here come the milk carts now, I 

guess. 

(Dan goes to the door and opens it.) 



The Son of a Millionaire. 15 

Enter — Left Second — Ben Wylie arid another Student. {Both are 
dressed in the outdoor walking hats and gowns of ladies. Ben is 
very graceful. The other is evidently embarrassed, and is occas- 
ionally awkward.) 

Dan {with profuse politeness to the two as they enter). Oh, Miss 
Crozier and Miss VanDeuzen ! How do you do? You came here 
to find Miss Ida, I suppose? 

Ben. Yes, we heard that she was here. 

Dan. You heard the truth. Walk in — will you not? 

Ben {with apparent embarrassment). Excuse us. We are not mak- 
ing a call, you know — came merely on an errand. It was im- 
portant. 

Dan. But now that you are here — you are not the only ladies pres- 
ent, you see. (Mrs. VanWorth and Bert stand looking at Ben 
and his companion.) By the way, how fortunate! — just the op- 
portunity! {To Mrs. VanWorth) Mrs. VanWorth, will you 
allow me? These ladies have called in accidentally to find Miss 
Ida. {Introducing the two) Miss Crozier and Miss VanDeuzen. 
(Mrs. VanWorth bows, as do Ben and his companion) Mr. 
VanWorth. (Bert bows. The two who have just entered keep 
at the left, and, apparently, talk with Ida and Hugh.) (Dan, 
after introducing the two, crosses to the right, and talks to Mrs. 
VanWorth. Bert takes some clothing from the trunk.) 

Exit — Right Upper — Bert. 

Mrs. VanWorth {to Dan, referring to the newcomers). Do they 

live in the town here? 
Dan. Only temporarily. They have several residences, I believe. 

Mr. Crozier, you know, has a gold mine out in Nevada ; and Mr. 

VanDeuzen is his partncx'. 
Mrs. VanWorth. They seem very ladylike. 
Dan. Oh, they are, very, very. 

(Ben and his companion come toward Mrs. VanWorth.) 

Mrs. VanWorth {to the two). Am glad to meet you, young 
ladies. {Pointing to the trunk). We were just unpacking. 

Ben. Is your son going to occupy this room? 

Mrs. VanWorth. Yes. 

Ben. a Sophomore, or a Junior, I suppose. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Oh, no — a Freshman ! I see ; you think it 
strange that my son should get this room when a Freshman. But 
we have arranged all that. You know that I am Mrs. VanWorth. 



16 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Ben. Oh, yes, I understand. My papa has said so often that he 
wished that we could meet you. Have you ever visited Nevada? 

Mrs. VanWorth. Nevada? No. 

Ben. To tell the truth, I am not so sure that you would find it 
interesting. But for us — we live there, you know. — We should 
be more apt to meet you, I suppose, at our place in Lenox, or in 
Newport. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Yes, of course ! Are there many of your set 
who have places in this neighborhood? 

Ben. Oh no ; not many, not many — between us, to tell the truth, 
hardly any at all ! But the scenery all about — you must have no- 
ticed it — is very fine ; and the people — they haven't very much 
money, of course, but, as papa says, they have mind; and, just 
as a matter of change, you see, one can be interested sometimes 
even in that. 

Dan {coming to Ben's relief, and using for his purpose the silver- 
backed toilet-set that he takes from the table and brings with 
him, and speaking, iirst, to Mrs. VanWorth). I beg pardon. I 
want Miss Crozier and her friend to see this. The whole thing 
is so fine, and the pattern so exquisite ! (Dan, Ben and the other 
student cross to the left where are Hugh and Ida.) 

Enter — Right Upper — Bert. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Bertie, I feel like taking back part of what I 
said. There are, at least, some charming girls out here. 

Bert {glancing tozvard the right). They are pretty good looking. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Pretty good? Why, Miss Crozier there is what 
I should call handsome ; and, then, so intelligent and bright ! 
She's the daughter of that rich miner out in Nevada. 

Bert. Miner? Crozier — I never heard of any such man. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Why, he owns a gold mine in Nevada ; and he's 
her father. The other is his partner's daughter. They only come 
here a little while in summer. If I were you, I think I should 
talk to them a little, and get acquainted. It might lead to your 
meeting others who come here to visit them. 

(Bert moves tozvard the right. Dan, who has been pointing to the 
dressing-gozvn, speaks to him.) 

Dan. Oh, Mr. VanWorth, Miss Crozier has just been admiring 
this so ! — thinks the colors so harmonious — go so well with the 
room ! 

Ben {in a coquettish way). Did I say only with the room, Mr. 
Strong? (Bert looks at Ben, who speaks in apparent embarrass- 
men) Oh — I — he — he was saying that one always liked to see 
nice people have nice things. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 17 

Bert. Nice people, eh? {To Dan) How can you know that they 
are nice? 

(Dan indicates clearly to the other student, Hugh and Ida that he 
wants Ben and Bert left to talk by themselves. All hut these tzvo 
more toward the left, Dan putting the toilet-set on the table.) 

Ben (to Bert). Oh, any person could tell that, right away! 

Bert. It's a little unwise, isn't it, to come to too sudden conclusions? 

Ben. Don't you believe in instinct? 

Bert. It wouldn't be polite for me to tell a j^oung lady, especially, 
that I didn't, would it? 

Ben. Is that the only reason that you wouldn't say so? 

Bert. Do you think you have any right to ask about my reasons? 

Ben. Isn't there a right of soul sometimes? 

Bert. Of soul ? — of soul ? Do you know you are quite a charm- 
ing young lady? 

Ben. Oh, you flatter, Mr. Van Worth ! but then, you know, when 
some people say things, we are almost obliged to believe them. 

Bert. One must be careful what he says, then. 

Ben. Except with people that he feels that he can trust. There 
are such people. 

Bert. You — are you going to stay in town long? You must let 
me call and get acquainted with you. 

Ben. Yes ; I shall be very happy — but there are people that we 
hardh^ feel that we need to get acquainted with. 

Bert. I can call, then, can I ? 

Ben. There is no reason why you shouldn't. 

Bert (fervently). There is the best of reasons why I should. 

Ida (suddenly interrupting Ben and Bert). Oh, Miss Crozier, Miss 
Crozier, Hugh wants to speak to you a moment. (Ben turns, 
evidently very gratefully, toward Hugh. Ida continues to Bert) 
I am afraid that I interrupted you. 

Bert. Not at all. You had a perfect right. (Looking at her criti- 
cally) But, perhaps, you had a reason. 

Ida. Only a general one. Do you remember the caution I gave you ? 

Bert. You think that they may make fun of me, and call me a lady's 
man, eh? I think I could stand that. 

Mrs. VanWorth (seeing Ida and Bert together, and looking sus- 
piciously tow'ard Ida) Bertie? (Bert turns and walks toward 
her) What was that professor's daughter saying to you? 

Bert. Oh, nothing much! — a little jealous, perhaps — thought me 
paying too much attention to Miss Crozier. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Absurd creature ! But how did you like Mis 3 
Crozier? 

Bert. Anybody would like her, I think. 



18 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Yes, so tasteful in her dress, so refined in her 
manner, so much of a lady every way ! Quite unlike that sister 
of your future roommate ! I am going to invite those two to visit 
me when they come to New York. 

Bert. Better not do that yet, would you? Isn't it a little soon? 

Mrs. VanWorth. It might be, but I want that Miss Wright to 
know that I recognize differences. She thinks that I have treated 
her a little coolly, and I have. But there have been reasons for 
it. Now she will perceive them. {She crosses to the left and 
speaks to Ben) Miss Crozier, do you and Miss VanDuezen ever 
come to New York? 

Ben. Oh, yes, quite often ! 

Mrs. VanWorth. The next time you come I should be very happy 
to have you call upon me. 

Ben. Why, how very kind in you ! and (addressing Ida) you will 
go with us too — not so? 

(Mrs. VanWorth looks offended. Ida notices this.) 

Ida. Humph ! Papa, you know, doesn't let me go everywhere. 

Mrs. VanWorth. No ; only where she is especially invited, I sup- 
pose. 

(This is too much of an insult to the favorite of the college for Ben 
to allow it to go unrebuked.) 

Ben. Well, I should think 1 was a confounded ass if I didn't go to 
a snob's house whenever I got a chance. (At this, very naturally, 
both Mrs. VanWorth and Bert look very much shocked. Ben 
ignores the fact, and goes on, to Bert) I hope you like your 
room, Mr, VanWorth. 

Bert (curtly) Yes. 

Ben. I always like it when I sleep here. (Mrs. VanWorth and 
Bert look still more shocked. Ben takes a cigar from the table 
and lights it) Say, Hugh, can't you order up some high balls? 
Oh, I forgot — the son of a professor might be found out! (Ben 
looks at Bert and Mrs. VanWorth) Well, I am pretty bad. I 
admit it — hardly expected to find such people, eh? (He snatches 
off his hat and wig, and ivith the so-called Miss VanDuezen gets, 
rather vulgarly, out of his gozvn) It was well played, though — not 
so? If you are to become a George Washington, Mr. Van- 
Worth, you will have to acknowledge that you almost lost your 
heart ; and you, Mrs. VanWorth, that you were sure that an out- 
rageously insulting and — may I say it? — vulgar Sophomore was 
very much more of a lady than this poor professor's daughter. 
Yes, you were. You invited the Sophomore to your home. 

Bert. But she thought — 



The Son of a Millionaire. 19 

Ben. One thing to learn in college is this — that before you do any- 
thing you should think, not once, but twice. 

Mrs. VanWorth {who, after several severe efforts, has Unally be- 
come enabled to control her voice). I shall speak to the college 
authorities, sir, and have you punished. 

Ben. Oh, no ; I am not afraid of that ! We have been teaching you 
to think twice — and you'll think twice about this as well as about 
other things. You are not going to advertise in all the papers of 
the country how big a fool an inexperienced boy could make, not 
only of your son, but also of yourself. 

Bert. Really, mother, the whole thing is nothing but a college 
joke. There is only one way in which to receive a joke, and not 
be hurt by it. One must himself be able to make light of it. 

CURTAIN. 



20 The Son of a Millionaire. 

ACT II. 

As a Sophomore in College. 
Scene: The same as in Act I; time, about a year later. 
The rising curtain reveals Hugh sitting at the table, reading. 
Enter — Right Second — Bert. 
(He is dressed like the chauffeur of an automobile. He sits down.) 

Hugh. Had a good time, Bert? 

Bert. Oh, you know, Hugh ! No fun to go out in a motor alone ! 

Hugh. But why go alone? Plenty of fellows would be glad to go 
with you. 

Bert. Yes; plenty of fellows would be glad to have me for their 
chauffeur, garage-keeper, courier ; but, once in a while, one wants 
a companion. That kind will not go with me. 

Hugh. But you are on good terms with those that belong to your 
own fraternity, aren't you? 

Bert. They don't belong to my fraternity. I belong to theirs. 

Hugh. What's the difference? 

Bert. The difference between a mass that is a whole and an in- 
dividual that is a part. The body doesn't belong to the tail. The 
tail belongs to the body. 

Hugh. But you joined them? 

Bert. No; hardly that! My family pushed me against them, I tum- 
bled, and they took me in. They did it on account of my money. 
That is what they saw in me, — is what they have made the college 
see in me. It's an awful handicap, Hugh, to be the son of a 
millionaire, — to know you have something inside of you, and yet 
to know that everybody about supposes that all you have is on 
the outside, — that you are a make-up not of mind but of money. 
Money glitters and attracts — glitters for moths and attracts the 
mercenary; makes one a center of superficiality, brainlessness, 
selfishness, sordidness, sensuality. 

Hugh. You are not that sort of a center, Bert. 

Bert. If not, it's not because my family haven't done their best to 
make me it ; or the college, either, for that matter. Why, I would 
about as soon be pitched into a ditch and have my ears filled with 
the filth of it as to have them stored, as they are, with Dick 
Carter's stories about getting drunk, Jim Gales' abovit betting at' 
bridge, and Tom Benson's about ballet girls, 



The Son of a Millionaire. 21 

Hugh. There's one redeeming feature, Bert. If they're so frank 
with you, you can be frank with them. A little unalloyed truth 
from the inside of your brain transferred to the inside of theirs 
might work like leaven, and do them good. 

Bert. Why try to force medicine down a throat that's always throw- 
ing up ! I have as much as I can do trying to dodge the output. 
I thank my stars every day of my life, despite the hazing it has 
cost me, that mother stumbled me into this room. You are the 
only man in college of my t>'pe that has ever given me real recog- 
nition, 

Hugh. But I have tried to explain you to the others. 

Bert. I know it, Hugh ; but there are some things that neither you 
nor I can explain. One is why people always prefer to be gov- 
erned by their own prejudices rather than by other's proofs. When 
you talk about me the fellows merely think you are doing your 
duty toward the college that put me here, and is getting money 
by it. 

Hugh. Oh, Bert, now, really, you are too sensitive ! 

{A knock at the Left Second Entrance.) 

Bert. Come in. 

Enter — Left Second — Ida. 

Bert (rising). Ah, Miss Ida! Good day. 

Ida (to Bert). Good day. (To Hugh) Mother sent me to ask 
you, Hugh, not to forget to drop in at the plumber's when you go 
down-town this afternoon. (To Bert) I'm sorry to have inter- 
rupted your talk. 

Bert. Oh, no interruption, Miss Ida. By the way, I have my 
car out this afternoon. Couldn't I persuade you to take a turn 
with me? 

Ida. Thank you, Mr. Van Worth. You are very kind — but — you 
know father never wants m.e to ride with students. 

Bert. But I saw you riding only yesterday with Pete Bennett. 

Ida. Yes, yes — Pete Bennett; but he, you know, is merely — wh)^ he 
pays his way through college by taking care of the horse and stable 
of the family next door to us. I was only going out with him to 
do an errand. 

Bert. Humph ! Some people that I know in the city would think 
it strange that you could ride with a student who's a stableman 
and not with one like mc. 

Ida. Oh, but he's different, you know ! He has to work hard, and 
he goes only with other students that work hard. 

Bert. And I? 



22 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Ida. Yes, I know you work hard enough. Hugh says you do. But 
there are a good many that you go with, and ride with, too, that 
father — well, you know father thinks that girls in college towns 
ought to be particularly careful. 

Bert {to Hugh). There, Hugh, what did I tell you? {To Ida) 
I was just saying that there seemed to be some students, too, who 
thought that they ought to be particularly careful. That's the 
reason why, Miss Ida, unless I want to ride alone, Fm obliged to 
ride with the set that your father doesn't like. 

Ida. Why so? 

Bert. Because I'm the son of a millionaire. 

Ida. Oh, but you are very much more than that ! 

Bert. You think so? 

Ida. I know so. Hugh says you're a fine scholar, and a beautiful 
writer. You know he's going to get you into the Literary Club. 

Hugh. Be careful, Ida. It has not been done yet ; and the fellows 
might resent it, if they heard it hinted that it might be done. 

Ida. I know that perfectly well. I shouldn't speak of it except to 
you and to Mr. VanWorth. I know that he knows about it. 

Bert. He does ; and is very thankful for it. The fact is I feel here, 
sometimes, like a man in a deep hole who needs to be lifted to 
a higher atmosphere, before he can breathe naturally. 

Ida. Yes ; quite true ! A literary man needs a literary atmosphere. 

Exit — Left Upper — Hugh. 

Bert. Not merely literary ! Whatever makes the heart beat quicker 
makes the, brain move faster. You see I had a practical, and an 
intellectual, reason as well — for asking you to ride with me. 

Ida. That's impossible, Mr. VanWorth. 

Bert. What does your father think of me, anyway. Miss Ida? 

Ida. I think that Hugh would influence his opinion. 

Bert. And others, too, you mean. What others? 

Ida. Of course, a man's always judged, to some extent, by the 
company he keeps. 

Bert. Yes; but you, you know, will not let me keep your company. 

Ida. Oh, Mr. VanWorth ! You can call at our house. 

Bert. The company which I keep, as you say, is not that which I 
chose for myself, but that to which my city friends introduced me. 

Ida. Some of them ought to know you pretty well. 

Bert. They might not know very well those to whom they intro- 
duced me. Does your father suppose that I care little or nothing 
for study; that I came here mainly to get a diploma, and so a 
reputation for what I don't deserve ; or that I'm spending my 
nights so as to get through, not only college life, but all life ap- 
parently, in the speediest way possible? I wonder that he lets me 
call at your house at all. I suppose he does it to please Hugh, 



The Son of a Millionaire. 23 

Ida. Perhaps not entirely. 

Bert. I hope not, Miss Ida. It's pleasant, at least, to see a young 

lady thoroughly polite. 
Ida {passing out to the Left Second). Thank you. Good day. 

Exit — Left Second — Ida. 

Enter — Left Upper — Hugh. 

Bert {to Hugh). I'm rather sorry you told your sister about the 
Literary Club. 

Hugh. Why is that? 

Bert. They may not elect me. 

Hugh. Oh, yes, I think they will ! They have given you your 
stunt — not so? 

Bert. I should rather think they had. 

Hugh. They probably intend to let you in, then. They almost 
always do it after that. 

Bert. Almost always, yes ! The truth is, Hugh, I want it too 
much ; and I have usually found that the thing that I wanted with 
all my heart was the thing that I failed to get. I sometimes feel 
that I shall go insane un.'ess something happens that can make 
my college life and companionship more of a real success. Oh, 
I know it's a weakness. It ought to be snubbed out of me, per- 
haps. I'm afraid that it will be. But, Hugh, it hurts, it hurts. — 
I must take home my motor. 

Exit — Left Second — Bert. 

(Hugh goes to the library shelves, looks over them, as if searching 
for a particular hook, apparently iinds it, then sits in the chair 
by the table, and begins to read. Sounds of a students' song are 
heard, and the tramping of feet, keeping time to its rhythm, fol- 
lowed by a knock on the door at the Left Second.) 

Hugh. Come in. {He rises.) 

Enter Left Second — Dan Strong, Ben Wylie^ Pete Bennett, and 
one or two other students, all singing. 

Hugh. Hello! 

Dan. How are you? We saw your chum go out; so we decided 
to come in and talk matters over. Our committee is going to 
examine him this afternoon. How soon will he be back? 

Hugh. Very soon, I think. Went out to take his machine to the 
garage. 



24 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Ben. You know some of us are a little doubtful about him. 

Hugh. I'm very sorry for that. He's a thoroughly good fellow, 
and a thoroughly intellectual one, too. 

Dan. But think of his antecedents ! The most of us are poor, and 
mighty poor. It exhausts our resources to treat with peanuts and 
small beer. He wouldn't want anything less than terrapin and 
champagne. 

Hugh. Oh, you mistake him ! 

Pete. Think of the spread he gave here last month. 

Hugh. That was his mother's. 

Pete. And his mother is the one who has trained him. Where we 
could get along with shirt sleeves and overalls he would want 
a dress suit. 

Hugh. A man isn't to blame for what his mother does. 

Dan. We're not blaming him — merely stating facts. Why should 
we try to bring him down to our level ? Or — to put it differently— 
why should we risk changing the whole character of the club in 
order to bring it up to his level? 

Hugh. We shouldn't need to change the character of the club. 

Dan. No need to do it, perhaps ; but we should — little by little — 
gradually. He would be sure to get in more of his set ; and then — 
little by little — gradually — that's the way such things are always 
done — all that the club stands for would be changed, and lost. 

Pete. The way to prevent anything from going to smithereens is 
to keep out the entering wedge. 

Hugh. I hope you'll think better of it, fellows. He's a man of 
very high literary tastes and aspirations; and would benefit us, 
I'm sure, as much as we should benefit him. But I have an errand. 
You'll excuse me, of course. I'll be back presently. Before you 
do anything definite about it, let me see you again. 

Dan. Yes. 

Ben. Certainly. 

Exit — Left Second — Hugh. 

Dan (as all take seats). Hugh's a mighty good fellow. 

Pete. Yes ; but in this case, of course, he has his reasons. 

Ben. Not bad ones, either, to tell the truth ! 

Dan. Not for him — only for us. I hope he'll be away till we get 
through here. If not, we may have to sit down on two instead 
of one. The truth is everybody in college knows how Bert was 
thrust upon Hugh. So Hugh can go with him, and not be con- 
sidered a bootlick. Very few of the rest of us could — and the 
club, as a body, not at all. We should lose all our college in- 
fluence. 

Ben. And offices, I suppose, when it came to a college election. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 25 

Dan. Why not? We should risk it, at least. You know how you 
would feel toward a set of bootlicks. 

Ben. But if he's so literary, as Hugh says — 

Dan. Then let him prove it. He hasn't done so yet — at least not 
for the college in general. When he's done it — after a year or 
two, perhaps — then the conditions may change. There's another 
thing, too, that I think ought to be considered. Dick Carter has 
been going around saying that he knows that Bert expects to 
join us. 

Ben. Who told him that, do you suppose? — Bert? 

Dan. Oh, no ; Bert's not a fool. But, probably, he's been confiding 
in his mother. Some people's ears and throats are so near to- 
gether that when you tickle the one the other is sure to be heard 
from. 

Ben. If he's been telling that mother of his about us that ought to 
settle it — almost, at least. 

Dan. Why not entirely? If the college knows tliat he expects it, 
and we disappoint him, that fact alone will emphasize our action 
and the reason for it, and so increase the club's influence — not so? 

Ben. a pretty good idea, yes ! But how are you going to manage 
it? If we reject him, we should make him think, at least, that 
we had a literary reason. 

Dan. Well, he has fallen into the old trap — has been correcting 
for us — and bettering, as he thinks, choice specimens from Ruskin, 
Matthew Arnold and Macaulay. 

Pete. Not enough in that, is there? — will be sure to find out some- 
time that others of us, though let in, have done precisely the 
same. 

Ben. Suppose we ask him to read some of his own writings, criti- 
cize them sharply, get him mad, and then have a row with him. 

Pete. That would almost equal the Miss Crozier episode. Would 
you box with him, Ben, if necessary? You know you're a little 
fellow, but you can lay out almost anybody. 

Ben. Of course I'd box with him. 

Dan. Hold on. I think he must be coming now. 

Enter — Left Entrance — Bert. 

Bert {to those in the room). Good day. (The others rise.) 
Dan. Good day, Mr. VanWorth. You see, we have kept our 

promise. 
Bert. Yes; it was very kind of you. (Bert goes into the room 

beyond Right Upper Entrance, then returns without some of his 

automobile outfit, and sns dozvn, as do the others.) 
Dan. Of course, you know, Mr. VanWorth, it would never do for 

a literary club not to make more or less of a literary examination 

of its candidates. 



26 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Bert. Yes, I understand. I suppose you got those essays that I 
corrected? I left them m your room yesterday. 

Dan. I got them, yes. But there are two things that we need to 
inquire about — not only whether the candidate can recognize good 
writing, but whether he himself can write. 

Bert. Hugh said that he had told you about that. 

Dan. Of course; or else we shouldn't be here at all. At the same 
time, you know, it's not he, but the committee, that must decide 
the matter. Have you any essays of your own on hand that you 
could read to us? 

Ben (to Dan). Wait, Dan. The best test of one's writing is not 
what he has worked over, as in an essay, but what he has pro- 
duced, as one might say, spontaneously, as in a letter, or a jour- 
nal. (To Bert) You keep a journal, don't you? I think Hugh 
said you did. 

Bert. Yes; but one doesn't like to read a private journal in public. 

Dan. Oh, we only want to hear parts of it ! Haven't you read some 
of it to Hugh? 

Bert. Only what he knew all about — some of my experiences the 
first week I was here in college. 

Dan. Just the sort of thing that we want you to read to us ! We 
don't care to know, do we, about your family secrets? 

Bert. Well, if that is what you want — 

Ben. It is, fellows, isn't it? 

Pete. Certainly. 

Other Students. Yes, yes. 

Bert (takes a journal from a draiver and reads). "The day was 
calm and beautiful. The sun rose from the darkened east like 
some majestic oriental monarch from a couch most richly cur- 
tained and quilted with the most brilliant hues possible to woven 
fabrics. In them appeared long alternating lines of gold and crim- 
son on a ground of most ethereal blue, while, here and there, a star 
still visible gleamed like a gem from out the darker folds that 
formed the shadows of their glorious surroundings." 

Dan. a fine quotation, that ! Where did you get it ? 

Bert. Quotation? 

Ben. Yes. 

Bert. It was not a quotation. I wrote it. 

Ben. Wrote it? — you? — Oh, come now! 

Dan. Joking is all well enough, my young man ; but this is a seri- 
ous examination, and joking here is out of place. 

Ben. Do you suppose we can't tell the difference between the style 
of a college student and that of a great genius? 

Bert. But really, now, I did write that myself. 

Ben. Honor bright? 

Bert. Yes, honor bright. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 2? 

Dan. Let me look at it? (Bert hands Dan the hook; Dan^ with a 
wink at the others, begins to look it over very carefully) Well, 
perhaps we shall have to take his word for it. But actually, now, 
I never knew anything like it, did you? 

Ben. How do you feel when you write that sort of thing, Bert ? 

Bert. Feel ? 

Ben. Yes ; a man can't be inspired without feeling it, can he ? 

Pete. I should think you would feel like a balloon when it has lost 
its ballast, and gone bounding up into the highest sunshine. 

Ben. Or like a hen that has dropped an egg, and is trembling into 
cackles from sheer nervous exhaustion. 

Dan. Or like a fellow who has flooded himself with so much beer 
that he is obliged to belch it overboard — very, very light-headed. 

(Dan is busy looking over the journal.) 

Ben (to Dan). Does he keep on all the way in that style, Dan? 

Bert (as he reaches toward his journal). Excuse me; but there 
may be some private things in that book not intended for public 
exposure. 

Dan (drawing the journal out of Bert's reach). You said that you 
would let us examine you — not so? How can we examine you 
thoroughly unless we have been thorough about it? 

Bert (a little nettled). Beg your pardon. This is not a question 
of thoroughness, but of courtesy. 

Dan. Oh, then you are going back on your word, are you? 

Bert. I should have to go back a long distance to find any word 
of mine permitting any one to read everything in that journal. 

Dan. Getting huffy, eh? Very well, then. We can drop the ex- 
amination if you want it. 

Ben (to Dan). Not now, Dan, it's gone too far. 

Dan. Yes ; too far not to go farther. Do you know, fellows, what 
I've found in this book? It was well the Literary Club examined 
it before it took a snake into its bosom. 

Bert. What do you mean? 

Dan Oh, you know what I mean ! You've been very gentle- 
ily to our faces; but here, in this book, that you keep shut, 
1 reveal your real character. 

.'. I'm afraid that you may reveal yours if you read there what 
. have asked you not to read. 

Dan. Did you ever hear anything like that, fellows? The idea of 
a man's writing what he's afraid to have others see ! No wonder, 
though ! Do you know what he thinks of you, Ben ? Here's what 
he thought of you the first time you met, — "a d — dash — little 
brute." And he wishes that he'd knocked you down at once, as 
you deserved. 



28 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Ben (pretending to he angered). Well, he can do it now if he 

wants, 
Bert. When you visit your neighbor's garden you ought to judge 

it by what appears on the surface. If you choose to dig down 

into the dirt and soil yourself, it is not his fault but yours. 
Dan. Oh, you are a coward, then ! 
Bert. Am I ? 
Dan, Any man's a coward who boasts in secret of wanting to do 

a thing, and then, when the opportunity is offered, is afraid to 

do it, 
Bert. I'm not afraid. 
Dan. Not afraid, eh? Fellows, get down those boxing gloves. 

We shall see about it. 

{All 7'ise. Pete gets down the pair of boxing gloves hanging 
on the zvall. They give one pair to Bert and one pair to Ben. 
Bert and Ben exchange a few blows, then Ben knocks Bert 
down.) 

Dan {to Bert, as he rises). Aha! Want to try anybody else? 

Bert {putting Jiis hand to his head where he has evidently been 
hurt). Yes, in case there is anybody here who's not an expert. 

Dan. Aha — caught on, eh? You are improving. But you'll have 
to improve a good deal yet before you get into the Literary Club. 
{Taking some folded manuscripts from his pocket and holding 
them up, one after another, as he mentions them) Here are the 
essays given you to correct. Do you know, young man, who wrote 
them? This was written by Ruskin ; this by Macaulay, and this 
by Matthew Arnold. You have gone to work and corrected every 
one of them. This shows your literary judgment, and you cor- 
rected them because you thought them written by students ; and 
that shows your literary information. {He flings the papers on 
the table) Ha! 

Bert. Just what I suspected ! But you gave me your word of 
honor that they were written by students. 

Dan. And so they were. One of them is in my own handwriting; 
and I'm a student. It was written by a student, then, wasn't it? 

Enter — Left Second — Hugh. 

{As he enters a college bell is heard ringing.) 

Dan {to Hugh). Too late, Hugh! — must go now to recitation. 
Committee will report next week. If you want to talk about it, 
come over and see us later. Good by. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 29 

Exeunt — Left Second — Dan^ Bert^ Pete and Other Students, 
after bowing to Hugh. 

(Bert sits down near the table, leaning his head on his hands.) 

Hugh (to Bert). What is it, Bert? What did they say — or do? 

Bert. You'd better ask what they did not say or do — if it could 
be construed into anything insulting or discrediting. 

Hugh (taking up the essays left on the table). No need of feeling 
badly about these, Bert ! It's an old college trick that always 
traps about nine out of every ten of us. That'll be all right. 

Bert. That wasn't the worst of it, Hugh. Before that, they in- 
sulted me and provoked me to insult them beyond the possibility, 
probably, of its ever being made up. They evidently had a pur- 
pose in it, too. You knew what I wanted, and why I wanted it. 
The wish was right on my part, and granting it involved only 
common consideration and courtesy on their part. Why should 
they have treated me as they have? No use in their trying to de- 
ceive me, or in your trying to make me think I'm mistaken ! It 
was because I'm the son of a millionaire. 

curtain. 



30 The Son of a Millionaire. 

ACT III. 

As a Junior in College. 

Scene: Same as in Acts I and 11. 

The rising curtain reveals Mr. Money, with a notebook and pen- 
cil in hand, and Bert. Both are sitting. 

Mr. Money. Yes; the Alumni Association undertook to raise the 
money ; and, very naturally, perhaps, wanted me to be their treas- 
urer. As treasurer of the college, too, it was a thing I hardly 
liked to do; but there is no valid objection to it, I suppose. 

Bert. You think, now, it'll be impossible to get the money? 

Mr. Money. I fear so. There's not a man that I can think of 
that I've failed to try. 

Bert. Exactly how much do you lack? 

Mr. Money. A little over a thousand dollars, 

Bert. There must have been mismanagement. 

Mr. Money. There was; but 'twas not intentional. You see the 
fellows are not business men. They spent too much on the cage 
and grand stand. 

Bert. I should think so ! I tell you what I'll do. If you'll promise 
that not a soul shall know who did it, I'll make up the deficit 
myself. 

Mr. Money. The whole? 

Bert. Say an even thousand. If you get that it'll be easy enough 
to get the rest. 

Mr. Money {writing in his book). It's very generous of you. But, 
really, you ought to let me tell the fellows of it — only doing jus- 
tice to yourself. 

Bert. No, no; I meant just what I said. And if you find any dif- 
ficulty in raising the rest, let me know it. 

Mr. Money (shrugging his shoulders, as if not wholly convinced 
that Bert is justified in not wishing to have the contribution made 
known). You're a friend in need, Mr. Van Worth — no doubt 
about that ! Good morning. 

(Mr. Money and Bert rise and bow to each other.) 

Exit — Left Second — Mr. Money. 

Enter — Left Second — Pete Bennett. 

Pete. Is Hugh in? 



The Son of a Millionaire. 31 

Bert. No. 

Pete. Am sorry. 

Bert. Come in and wait for him. Sit down. Hugh was telling 

me about you. Is it true that you have really and permanently 

lost your job? 

(Pete sits down, as does Bert.) 

Pete. I'm afraid it is. You see the horse — old Foster's horse that 
I was taking care of — ran away. I know I hitched him. Some 
of the town boys unhitched him, I suppose. 

Bert. Nothing to prove it? 

Pete. Nothing but by word. 

Bert. And the old man is too mad to listen to that? 

Pete. About the size of it. 

Bert. Yes. Throwing words at a heated brain is like sprinkling 
water on a red hot stove. It never goes below the surface ; and 
whatever you get back is a combination of hiss and shot, and if 
it hits you, it burns. You must wait till he cools off. 

Pete. That'll come too late. He has engaged another student 
already. 

Bert. Sorry to hear that ! Will it interfere with your staying in 
college ? 

Pete. Of course; and that's not the worst of it. My sister was 
going to enter a dramatic school in New York. I can't possibly 
help her now. I suppose she'll have to give it up. 

Bert. Bennett, Bennett? Was that your sister that read at the 
school exhibition last month? 

Pete. Yes. 

Bert. Read finely too ! See here, Pete, will you take it amiss if I 
offer to help you a little ? You know — everybody in college seems 
to know — that my father left me money — not so much as some 
people suppose, but enough to let me lend a little once in a while, 
and not feel it. 

Pete. I thank you ; you are very kind ; but, really, there's one thing 
that I've always tried to do : that is, to keep out of debt. In the 
long run I'm sure it'll be better for me to go out and work for 
a time. 

Bert. But how about your sister? You know, Pete, I should 
never press you for the money. Do me good now, and let me 
practice the helping hand (taking a roll of bills from his purse) 
There — let your sister go to the school, if she wants; and you 
wait around a few weeks. This'll pay your expenses, and, pos- 
sibly, by that time, something'U turn up here. I'll look around 
myself, and try to help you to it. 



32 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Pete {hesitating, then taking the bills and putting them into his 

ozvn pocket-book). You're very kind. (Rising, going to the table 

and taking a pen and paper) I'll give you a receipt. 
Bert (rising too). Oh, no matter about that! I should prefer not. 

If you and I were to die your sister might have to pay it to my 

executors. No, no, we can remember it without a receipt. 
Pete (putting aside the pen, and rising from the table). You're 

very kind, very. I hope, though, that you'll not think that I came 

in merely to see you because I knew that you had money. I came 

to see Hugh, because of his troubles. 
Bert. His troubles? Hugh? What troubles has he? 
Pete. He hasn't told you? 
Bert. No. What do you mean? 

Pete. You hadn't noticed anything about his manner? 
Bert. Been a little glum, perhaps, the last few days ; but what of 

that? You act as if you thought the thing was serious. 
Pete. And so it is. 
Bert. And he told you about it? 
Pete. No — Why, everybody knows it — everybody in the town, I 

mean. The students — I suppose it hasn't reached them yet. 
Bert. What is it? If everybody knows, I ought to know. What 

is it? 
Pete. Why, about the professorship ! 

Bert. What professorship? ' 

Pete. His father's. 
Bert. Hugh's ? 
Pete. Yes. 

Bert. Well, what of it? 
Pete. You know it was endowed by a Mr. Mason, of New York. 

The principal was not paid in. He sent on the interest every year. 

Now he has failed. Of course, the salary will have to stop. 
Bert. But the professorship must be continued? 
Pete. Very doubtful ! Wright has never been popular, you know, 

with old Prex ; and now they say the old fox is going to seize 

the opportunity to get rid of him — divide up his work among 

other of the professors. 
Bert. And there'll be nothing for the family — for Hugh and his 

sister — to live on ? 
Pete. How can there be, unless they get another place? 
Bert. Why, this is dreadful, Pete, a dreadful situation ! Strange 

that Hugh has never told me of it? I thought him my friend. 
Pete. The very reason, perhaps, why he didn't tell you. 
Bert. The reason? Is that your conception of friendship? What 

are friends for, unless you can tell them your troubles, and let 

them sympathize with you? 
Pete. But he may have felt as I should. I was genuinely sorry 

when I came in here, and you began to talk about my troubles. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 33 

I felt ashamed of myself. You must remember that you have 
money; and there are mighty few self-respecting students who'll 
put themselves where others may suppose they are willing to be 
beggars. 

Bert. Good God ! — and you think such a thought as that would in- 
fluence Hugh? 

Pete. It's nothing but a guess of mine, of course. 

{Knocking at the door at the Left Second.) 

(Bert goes to the door and opens it.) 

Enter — Left Second — Mrs. VanWorth, in outdoor walking suit. 

Bert. Why, mother, what brought you to town today? I am so 
delighted to see you. (Kissing her, tJicn gesturing toward Pete) 
This is Mr. Bennett, mother. (Mrs. VanWorth and Pete bow. 
The latter moves toward the door. Bert continues) No need 
of hurrying off, Pete! Must go? — Good by, then. (Gives Pete 
his hand) You'll let me hear from you — not so? And call upon'' 
me, if you need me? 

Exit — Left Second — Pete. 

Mrs. VanWorth (who, meantime, has seated herself, as, presentlyy 
does Bert). Was not that the person that you told me was a 
stable-boy ? 

Bert. Yes ; Pete Bennett. 

Mrs. VanWorth. You seem to be quite intimate with him. 

Bert. Oh, no ! I merely keep in with him, as I do with all the 
fellows. 

Mrs. VanWorth. It has been very difficult, Bertie, to teach you 
to select your acquaintances judiciously. 

Bert. Well, there's Dick Carter and Tom Benson. They are in 
the fraternity that you got me into. I'll send for them, if you 
want company. Possibly they'll come. 

Mrs. VanWorth. You know what I mean, Bertie. A rich man 
is like a tree in a southern climate — in danger of being over- 
climbed and over-reached, as people say, by parasites. 

Bert. That'll take care of itself, mother. When I get into the 
world, people like Pete will avoid me as much as I care to avoid 
them. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Is that all you know about the world, Bertie! 
I fear that you must learn a great deal before you are fitted for 
the position in which Providence seems to have put you. 



34 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Bert. I sometimes feel the same way, mother — as if I had been 

put into a deep, black hole ; and the only thing to do was to try 

to climb up and out. 
Mrs. VanWorth. What do you mean? 
Bert. Oh, nothing, mother ! — a little downhearted, perhaps ! 

There's a shadow resting on me. 
Mrs. VanWorth {in evident anxiety). What is it? 
Bert. It seems Hugh's father has been living on a salary paid by a 

Mr. Mason, of New York. Mr. Mason has failed in business ; and 

now, you see, the salary has failed. 
Mrs. VanWorth. And Hugh has been asking you to pay it? 
Bert. No ; Hugh has said nothing to me about it. 
Mrs. VanWorth. You ought to be thankful for that. 
Bert. I'm not thankful for it. I'm sorry that he didn't have 

enough confidence in me to let me know of it. 
Mrs. VanWorth. Why, he might have expected you to pay the 

salary yourself ! 
Bert. And I do expect to pay it myself. 

Mrs. VanWorth. What a crazy notion! How much is it? 
Bert. About three thousand dollars, I suppose. 
Mrs. VanWorth. Three thousand dollars 1 — and you expect to pay 

that to every impecunious professor that comes along? 
Bert. No ; not to every one — only to one ; and him the father of 

my best friend. 
Mrs. VanWorth. And you think that you can spare that amount? 

Why, it's impossible. 
Bert. Why so? We shall have plenty left. 
Mrs. VanWorth. I'm very glad, Bertie, that, until you're of age, 

there'll be no such thing as your wasting that amount of money 

without my permission. 
Bert. But you'll not refuse me? 
Mrs. VanWorth. I must. 
Bert. Why so? 
Mrs. VanWorth. Chiefly, because we need the money for our own 

expenses. 
Bert. Expenses, mother? How absurd! We have a great deal 

more than we can spend. In fact, we could endow the whole 

professorship for all time, principal and interest, from one year's 

income, and scarcely feel it. 
Mrs. VanWorth. Is that all you know, Bertie? We can hardly 

get along on what we have now. 
Bert. But there are a great many things that we don't need to 

have now. 
Mrs. VanWorth. What, pray? 
Bert. Why, for one thing, some of our horses and carriages, and, 

then, our opera box. You use it only about once a fortnight. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 35 

Mrs. VanWorth. Whether we use it or not is not the question, 
Bertie ! There are certain things that one must have, if merely 
because he is in society. 

Bert. We could get along, too, without so many clothes. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Wh}', Bertie ! 

Bert. You and sister seem to think that you must have a new and 
different hat and gown about every time that you step out of the 
front door ; and a single suit must cost anywhere from one to 
three hundred dollars. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Oh, Bertie, you wouldn't have us going around 
so people could recognize us a block away, as they do a yellow 
dog — by the colors we always wear ? 

Bert. Well, if your set keeps on you'll have to go around that way 
before long. All the beasts and birds of the world will have been 
murdered. There will be none of their furs and feathers left. 
You will have to wear only your own, perhaps. 

Mrs. VanWorth. You surprise me, Bertie ! 

Bert. Those who suppress their thoughts for fear of surprising 
others seldom speak the truth. See here, mother; if we all wore 
hair, for which clothing is a substitute, we should always look the 
same waj' — like the yellow dog. 

Mrs. VanWorth. You want us to go back to that state — the sav- 
age state, then ? 

Bert. No; but to some sort of a natural state — if possible. The 
most beautiful thing in the world is the human face and form, the 
most attractive thing the human mind and soul. Your set paint 
the face and upholster the form till the whole personality comes 
at one from behind a mask. What sense is there in making life 
uninteresting? The most charming sight conceivable, I think, is 
a fresh, pretty girl in a clean, unadorned white gown. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Where did you get such absurd conceptions, 
Bertie ? You are mistaken in thinking your sister and I dress ex- 
travagantly. We might dress very plainly, and it would take all 
the money we have to run our four houses. 

Bert. Why not shut up some of them, then? 

Mrs. VanWorth. Houses deteriorate unless you keep them open. 

Bert. Then why not get rid of some of them — sell them? 

Mrs. VanWorth. What a question, Bertie? We must keep our 
house in New York, and go to the Highlands in Spring and Fall; 
and, merely to fulfil our obligations to society, we need our places 
at Newport and Lenox. 

Bert. What obligations? 

Mrs. VanWorth. Nobody would invite us to house-parties unless 

we had house-parties ourselves. 
Bert. And what if not? We could get along without them. Why 
do we need them, or, at least, so many of them? 



36 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Mrs. VanWorth. If you want a very practical answer, Bertie, it's 
because your sister — and you yourself, for that matter — need to 
get married. 

Bert. You think the kind of people that she meets at house-parties 
— or that I meet there — are the kind to marry? 

Mrs. VanWorth. They are the only kind. 

Bert. So far as I've known them, most of them are lazy, self-in- 
dulgent, purse-proud, mean. Why should I want to marry one 
of them? 

Mrs. VanWorth. You will have to do it, Bertie. One of these 
days you'll need an establishment of your own. Then you'll be 
glad of some one who can help you. 

Bert. It hardly seems right, mother, to think and to plan merely 
in order to spend money on ourselves — on all these houses, for in- 
stance, simply for three of us. 

Mrs. VanWorth. The money's not spent on ourselves. Think of 
the servants we support. How many do you suppose that we 
have now in New York? 

Bert. Oh, twenty, perhaps ! 

Mrs. VanWorth. Twenty-eight. 

Bert. Twenty-eight people to take care of you and sister ! Yet I 
doubt if you're any more comfortable than you would be in the 
Palace Hotel using only the servants of the house. 

Mrs. VanWorth {apparently struck by the absurdity of the re- 
mark). Oh, Bertie ! 

Bert. At least you could lessen the number of your servants. 

Mrs. VanWorth. But consider how large the house is ! Just now, 
to tell the truth, I am thinking of enlarging the number. Mrs. 
Gorman is altogether too easy as a housekeeper. 

Bert. You are not thinking of turning her off, are you? 

Mrs. VanWorth. Oh, no ! She's too valuable for that. I am 
merely thinking of getting a man to help her. 

Bert. Been more trouble in the kitchen? 

Mrs. VanWorth. There's always trouble there. You see the butler 
and the cook — 

Bert. You keep that French cook yet? 

Mrs. VanWorth. Of course ! — not a better cook in the city ! 

Bert. Perhaps ; but I should give up French cooking rather than 
run the risk every week of having a French revolution in my 
basement. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Yes; but John — 

Bert. John's our old family butler, absolutely honest and faithful. 

Mrs. VanWorth. But the cook says he'll leave if John stays. 

Bert. But John — why John must stay. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Now you see the trouble you make? 

Bert. / make? Oh, no, mother, you make it. (Mrs. VanWorth 
evidently demurs) Well, then, perhaps, both of us make it. We 



The Son of a Millionaire. 37 

do it by trying to run a boarding-house for a lot of half-worked 
people whose resources of thought or feeling are exhausted the 
moment hands and feet cease pumping in order to fill them. A 
lazy booby wags his tongue for the same reason that a lazy dog 
wags his tail ; and he slashes indiscriminately what ever happens 
to be near. No wonder there are rows in the kitchen. What I 
fear is that, some day, the cook'll get mad enough to poison us all. 

Mrs. VanWorth (rather apprehensively) . You really think there 
is danger of that? 

Bert. Why not? Who knows where he came from, or what has 
been his history? 

Mrs. VanWorth. What do you think we ought to do about it? 

Bert. Just what I said — shut down on the number of houses, and 
of the servants in them. 

Mrs. VanWorth. We are under obligations, as I said before, to 
society. 

Bert. We are under more obligations, I think, to humanity. 

Mrs. VanWorth. But society's a part of humanity. 

Bert. It forms a larger part, I think, of inhumanity. When we 
follow society's lead, or become leaders in it, we tread a path, and 
set a pace, that may tumble half of those behind us down a 
precipice. 

Mrs. VanWorth. If so, it is their own fault. 

Bert. Yes and no. It's our fault so far as they are led astray by 
our example. Our deeds, mother, never end with ourselves. 
They include what we do to others. 

Mrs. VanWorth. What others? 

Bert. All others — persons or things; yes, all objects that surround 
us off to the remotest star. No one can think of himself except 
as the center of the universe with all of which he is connected as 
a soul with a body, and this with the atmosphere around the body. 
There is so much truth, at least, in what some call the exploded 
science of astrology. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Where did you get such strange conceptions, 
Bertie. {She rises, as does Bert.) 

Enter — Left Second — Dan and Ben. With the door open, and hear- 
ing what is said, they remain there a moment unobserved. 

Bert (to Mrs. VanWorth). And you'll not sanction my giving the 

money for that professorship? 
Mrs. VanWorth. Not by any means. 
Bert. But I'm sure, mother, it would be the very best thing to do 

both for you and for me. 
Mrs. VanWorth. Where was it that 3'ou hung that picture that I 

sent you last week? 
Bert. In here. (He leads the way to the Right.) 



38 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Exeunt — Right Upper — Bert and Mrs. VanWorth, shutting the 
door after them. 

Dan. Humph ! Giving money for a professorship ! 

Ben. That ought to make the faculty put him into the honor group ! 

Dan. I should say so ! Do you know, I think he's planning, too, to 
run for the Presidency of the Athletic Club. 

Ben. No. 

Dan. Yes. He has just given a thousand dollars for the deficit. 

Ben. Who told you that? A rather cheeky bid, I should say. 

Dan. Oh, he pretended not to want to have it known. "Money- 
bags" promised not to tell. 

Ben. How did you find it out, then? 

Dan. As everybody did, and as he must have known that every- 
body would — in the subscription book. "Money-bags" entered the 
sum between what he got from Jim Blake, who rooms on one 
side of him here, and Harry Brown, who rooms on the other side. 
We all know Hugh couldn't have given the money. The only other 
guess gives it to Bert. Besides that, Bert's been subsidizing Pete 
Bennett ; and you know Pete has a good deal of influence. 

Ben. And how did you find out about the subsidizing? 

Dan. Pete went around this morning paying all his debts. He had 
just been in to see Bert. He said so. In fact, it was Pete that 
first suggested who gave the thousand dollars. He met "Money- 
bags" coming out of here, when he, himself, was coming in. 

Ben. Dan, you were wrongly named. You ought to have been 
called Sherlock Holmes. 

Dan. It's easy enough to see through things if only you keep your 
eyes open. 

Ben. And your imagination at work. It's not always perception ; 
imagination is the architect of most of our conclusions. 

Dan. But the foundations are laid in fact. 

Ben. Sometimes, yes. 

Dan. You doubt what I say? 

Ben. No ; not what you say, but what you think, and I feel like 
giving Bert the benefit of the doubt. He may have had other 
motives. 

Enter — Right Upper — Bert. 

Bert (to Dan and Ben). Oh, good day, fellows. Any news? 
Dan. I should think there was ! Somebody has given a thousand 

dollars to make up the athletic deficit. 
Bert. So ? Well, it was needed bad enough ! 
Dan. Yes ; and some of us think he must have needed it, too. 
Bert. Who was that? 
Dan. Why, the one who gave it. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 39 

Bert. What do you mean? — how so? 

Dan. If a student gave that money, just as soon as the club finds 
out who he was he'll be made President ; and that's not a slight 
honor, you know. 

Bert. But everybody knows now who's going to be their next 
President. 

Dan. Everybody except those who think it can be made doubtful. 

Bert. Oh, nobody could think that. 

Dan. Am glad to hear you say so. By the way, did you know that 
Pete Bennett's sister was going off to New York by the afternoon 
train? 

Bert. What for? 

Dan. To study for the stage; and do you know who's going 
with her? 

Bert. Who's that? 

Dan. Oh, one of your friends ! I supposed you knew all about it. 

Bert. Who do you mean? 

Dan. Tom Benson. He's been flirting with her all the last month, 
you know. 

Bert. You are using the word know pretty freely, I think. How 
should I know? 

Dan. Tom's one of your friends — not so? 

Ben. See here, Dan ; if you continue to exercise your imagination 
much further, somebody may give you a punch that will land you 
in the land of imagination altogether. 

Dan. I'm not exercising imagination. It was Pete, just after pay- 
ing me a little debt, who told me that his sister was going. Then 
Tom Benson's chum told me Tom was going, too. When one puts 
two and two together, and draws an inference, he's exercising not 
imagination, but logic. 

Bert. It applies to me, you think? 

Dan. It applies to anybod}^ when a good many draw the same in- 
ference. Oh, very few will blame you, Bert ! If I had a friend 
like that, I should, probably, think he was all right, and that I 
was all right playing into his hands. Hugh's not here? 

Bert. No. 

Dan. We must come in again, then. Good by. 

Ben. Good by. 

Bert. Good by. 

Exeunt — Left Second — Dan and Ben. 

Bert {standing a moment, as if in perplexity, then turning toward 
the Right Upper). Mother. 

Enter — Right Upper — Mrs. VanWorth. Bert continues, looking at 
his watch. Mother, you can get ready to go home by the four 
o'clock train — not so? 



40 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Mrs. VanWorth. I was planning to take dinner with you and go 
back by the evening train. Why? 

Bert. I've some business there that I've just thought of. 

Mrs. VanWorth. What business? 

Bert {hesitating a moment, then going on) You know I'm on the 
committee for getting advertisements for the college paper. If I'm 
in the city in the evening I can go down to the University Club 
and meet a lot of the Alumni, and, when there, they'll have more 
time for me, be better natured, and more apt to do what I want, 
than if I called on them at their offices. Besides, I've no lectures 
tomorrow, and can spend the whole forenoon in the cit> 

Mrs. VanWorth. If you really want to go at four o'clock I sup- 
pose there's no objection; but the train's not a very good one. 

Bert. Has only one parlor car, I know. But I can arrange that, I 
think — will go out right away and telephone for seats. (Bert 
opens the door at Left Second. As he does so. Enter — Left Sec- 
ond — Ida. Bert continues) Oh, Miss Ida! (She looks around 
the room) No; your brother is not in; but he should be now in a 
minute or two. My mother, you see, is here. (Gesturing toward 
Mrs. VanWorth, zvho bozvs, as does also Ida) Walk in. I'm 
glad you came. You can keep her company. I'm just going out 
to telephone for parlor car seats for her and me on the four 
o'clock train. (To Mrs. VanWorth) Will be back in five min- 
utes, mother. 

Exit — Left Second — Bert. 

Ida (comes forzvard, and is rather coolly received by Mrs. Van- 
Worth, but, as if expected to say something, remarks). Your son 
and my brother seem to be getting on very comfortably. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Quite so, I think; though, of course, some of 
Mr. Wright's associates are not exactly what Bertie would prefer. 

Ida. But he's not obliged to go with them. He belongs, you know, 
to a different fraternity. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Yes; it was very fortunate that he had the good 
sense to choose his intimates from those more nearly in his own 
station — from students who could sympathize with his tastes and 
tendencies. 

Ida. Yes, that's always very important! 

Mrs. VanWorth. Much more important than even Bertie, I think, 
always recognizes. You will excuse me, Miss Wright, if I speak 
plainly with you. I think it's better, in the long run, to be per- 
fectly frank; and it's not often, you know, that I get an oppor- 
tunity to speak to you in private. I have a feeling that, in some 
quiet way, possibly through the help of your father, possibly 
through that of only your own good sense, you may be able to do 



The Son of a Millionaire. 41 

a very great service to our family — you may be able to influence 
your brother so that he may aid us in counteracting certain — well 
I can call them unfortunate — attitudes of mind that seem to be 
manifesting themselves in Bertie. They might be described as 
theories with reference to life, its methods, and its responsibili- 
ties, that are at variance, so to speak, with the position which his 
family occupies in New York, and, if he live, which he himself 
must occupy. 

Ida. I'm sorry to hear you say that, Mrs. Van Worth; and I'm sure 
my brother will be. You think that he — 

Mrs. Van Worth. Oh, your brother is not to blame, probably; not 
consciously, at least. It's quite natural that he and his compan- 
ions — those in their sphere of life — should have such views. At 
the same time, I think it might be well if some one like yourself 
or your father — some one outside of his own sphere, as well as 
those of us inside of it, should caution him. 

Ida. You've been frank with me, Mrs. VanWorth, and — you'll ex- 
cuse me — will you not? — if I'm equally frank with you. What I 
want to say is that I think my brother understands the differences 
in station of which you are speaking — understands them already, 
and understands them a great deal better, I may say, than Mr. 
VanWorth does. You know Hugh has spent one or two vaca- 
tions at your house in the city. When he comes back he always 
speaks of these differences. 

Mrs. VanWorth {evidently flattered). He recognizes them, then? 

Ida. Oh, yes ! He always says that the young ladies that he meets 
there, and even the young men, wouldn't care anything about him 
if they really knew how poor — and he sometimes adds, but of 
course, that's only a joke — how pure — he really is. 

Mrs. VanWorth '{evidently pleased). Is that so? Is that so? I 
had hardly given him credit for having so much sense. You know 
that it's comparatively seldom that those in the under classes rec- 
ognize, in so clear a way, that which is true of the upper classes. 

Ida. Oh, now and then, they recognize a great deal more about 
them than is sometimes supposed ! 

Mrs. VanWorth. I am glad to hear you say so. You know that 
anyone coming from rural associations, such as you have here, into 
surroundings such as environ us, would feel very much out of 
place — very unhappy. Our friends, of course, couldn't be expected 
to welcome such a person ; and, without a welcome, no one comes 
out well! — ha, ha! — We have always tried to be particularly kind 
to your brother for Bertie's sake ; and yet you see — 

Ida. Yes, I see. 

Mrs. VanWorth. You're a very sensible young lady, Miss Wright ; 
and — you'll excuse a mother, I trust, for saying it to you — it will 
really be a very great favor on your part, not only to our family, 
but, I think, to your brother, too, if — in a kindly spirit — you'll sug- 



42 The Son of a Millionaire. 

gest to him that he ought not — I don't mean in a general way, but 
in a particular way — to presume upon too great intimacy with 
Bertie, or, through him, with our family. 

Ida. It's a pity, Mrs. Van Worth, that you hadn't thought of that 
when you first allowed your son to room with Hugli. 

Mrs. Van Worth. Yes, but the place {looking around) was so at- 
tractive ! 

Ida. Just what a fly thinks of a spider's nest — not so? — Mrs. Van- 
Worth? 

Mrs. VanWorth. Oh, you mustn't be too hard upon your brother, 
Miss Wright. Neither he nor I could have surmised how Bertie 
would develop. 

Ida. Some students will develop, Mrs. VanWorth. It's a fact, not- 
withstanding a number of things here that might prevent it, things, 
for instance, like j^our son's fraternity. 

Enter — Left Second — Bert and Hugh. 

Mrs. VanWorth {bowing to Hugh and speaking to Bert). Did 

you get the seats? 
Bert. Yes ; all right ! 
Mrs. VanWorth. I must go to the hotel, then, and pack up my 

grip — will drive to the station, and meet you there. 
Bert. All right! (Mrs. VanWorth &ozt^^ /o Ida awe? Hugh. Bert 

opens the door for her.) 

Exit — Left Second — Mrs. VanWorth. 

Bert {to Ida and Hugh). I'm going to the city by the four o'clock 
train — must pack up. You'll excuse me. 

Exit — Right Upper — Bert, shutting the door after him. 

Ida {to Hugh and looking toward the Left Second Entrance). I'm 

glad you came in when you did. I feel relieved — am beginning to 

breathe freely once more. 
Hugh. Has she been trying to sit down on you again? 
Ida. Yes ; and I never realized before how heavy a lot of money in 

one's pocket can make a person. 
Hugh. A chance for you to do missionary work, then ! Did you 

try to give her an uplift? 
Ida. Missionary work! I felt like a butterfly in a bog trying to 

teach a worm to use wings. The more you get the worm to 

wiggling the deeper down it sinks. 
Hugh. There's one blessed thing about it — for her. She never 

thinks of you as the butterfly or of herself as the worm, but vice 

versa. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 43 

Ida. Precisely. She was complaining of the humanizing effect upon 
Bert of his college life. I felt like explaining to her what effect 
she ought to expect from anybody's studying the humanities. 

Hugh. Your explanation wouldn't have explained. To understand 
what is humanizing, people have to be human themselves. Some 
are not so. When you try to train them, they are like dogs. You 
ask them to lend you a hand, and they can only scratch with a 
paw. {Knocking is heard at the door at the Left Second) 
Come in. 

Enter — Left Second — Pete Bennett, evidently in a state of great 
nervous excitement. 

Pete {to Hugh, hardly homing to Ida). Is Bert in? 

Hugh. Yes. 

Pete {looking around). Where is he? 

Hugh {glancing toward the door at right upper). In his room. 

{To Bert) Bert! 
Pete. Is he going to New York this afternoon? 
Hugh. I believe so — is packing now, I think. 
Pete. It's true, then — confounded skunk! {To Ida) Excuse me; 

but when you talk about some people you have to use words to 

fit them. 

Enter — Right Upper — Bert. (Pete continues) I understand you're 
going to New York by the four o'clock train this afternoon. 

Bert. Yes. 

Pete. I want you to know that there's no necessity for your going 
now. I've checkmated your little game. 

Bert. I was going with my mother. 

Pete. Yes, so you say. You say a good many things of the same 
kind. A sneak, like a snake, never moves straight forward. If 
you think it going in one direction, it can prove by its wiggling 
that it's going in another. It gets on all the same, though. 

Bert {rather sharply) What do you mean? 

Pete. I mean to say that you've been found out. You know, or 
ought to know, that Tom Benson is the last man that any one 
would have go to the city with his sister. But look ! She gets 
the money to go from you, you give the tip to Tom ; and then, to 
recommend him, go along with him yourself. Now I want to tell 
you that she's not going; moreover, besides that, that you and 
your money may go to hell where it'll be better able to do your 
kind of work. Here it is — all that I haven't spent. {Puts some 
hills on the table) If you want to sue mc for the rest, do so ; and 
I shall have the pleasure of telling the court exactly what kind of 
a scoundrel you are. {Pete snatches the tongs from the fireplace, 



44 The Son of a Millionaire. 

and waves them as if about to attack Bert. Ida rushes in front 
of Pete and Hugh takes the tongs from his hands.) 

Hugh. Wait, wait, Pete ! You are forgetting yourself. 

Pete. You are not — because there are some things you've not be- 
gun yet to learn. I know what I'm talking about. He's been 
trying to hit several geese with one stone — get my sister to New 
York, play into the hands of Tom Benson, and get me to run him 
for the presidency of the Athletic Club ! _ - 

Bert. Where in heaven — or hell — did you get hold of those ideas, 
Pete ? 

Pete. Where everybody in college has got hold of them, if you 
want to know the truth. What did you give that thousand dollars 
this morning to the Athletic Club for? What did you want your 
mother to let you give money to the college for? What did you 
put me in a hole for, where everybody in college thinks I'm a man 
to be bribed? 

Hugh (to Pete). You blaggardy fool, don't you talk that way in 
my room! Here, Bert, take him by the other shoulder. We'll 
pitch him out. 

Bert. Wait a minute, Hugh ! I want to hear what he has to say. 
Who do you suppose told him those things? 

Pete. I'll tell you — everybody who knows anything about the facts. 
You thought that you could let it leak out where the money came 
from without having anything leak out about your motives. The 
two things, unfortunately, have gone together. 

Ida. I beg your pardon, Pete. But you're mistaken here from be- 
ginning to end. It is his mother with whom he is going to the 
city, I was here myself, and heard them arrange to go. 

Pete. Excuse me, too. Miss Ida. You don't understand a million- 
aire nor the mother of a millionaire. Tom Benson, of all the fel- 
lows in college, is Mrs. Van Worth's ideal. It was iDecause he was 
in that rotten fraternity, that she got her son to join it. The women 
in her set are just as bad as the men. For them all the world is 
a playground and all the men and women in it only playthings. 
One fact that they think they know with certainty is this — that 
the more poor girls they can get a son of theirs to fall in love 
with, the more likely they are to get him to marry a rich girl 
that he's not in love with. Oh, you can't fool me ! Wherever 
people prize things mainly for the gilding you may be sure that 
whatever is under it would look mighty cheap if it were not cov- 
ered up. 

Hugh. What you say may be true enough about certain people, 
Pete, but it's not true about Bert. You've been misinformed. I 
know what I'm talking about. Come out in the hall here. I want 
to tell you something. 

Exeunt — Left Second — Hugh and Pete reluctantly following Hugh. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 45 

Ida. Thank God, we're rid of him for a little ! 

Bert. Yes, you and Hugh are, but — should you think that any one 
in college could really believe what he said about me ? He seemed 
to believe it — thoroughly. 

Ida. a man who's very poor, as he is, sometimes becomes very sen- 
sitive, you know — morbidly so. Besides this, some one, evidently, 
has been — well one might almost say making a malicious use of 
that trait in him. 

Bert. But that would be so mean — in the circumstances. 

Ida. Yes, but somebody has been mean. 

Bert. What do you suppose was the motive? 

Ida. I don't know much about it ; but I should guess college politics. 

Bert. I never ran for any office yet ; nor tried to do it. 

Ida. Perhaps some of them are afraid that you will try it in the 
future — and it looks as if they thought you might be successful. 

Bert. Miss Ida, when he lifted those tongs at me, I really thought 
for a moment that I was a goner. I might have been — he's a very 
strong fellow, you know — if it hadn't been for you. I wish that 
I could always have you to stand by me, or in front of me. If so, 
I'm sure that I should be less likely ever to be a goner in the 
future. {He takes her by the hand. She withdraws it and moves 
away. ) 

Ida. No, please, Bert. I had a talk, this afternoon, with your 
mother. 

Bert. Well ? 

Ida. Do you think that I would do anything to separate you from 
your own family? — your mother, your sister, and all your friends? 

Bert. Separate ? How so ? 

Ida. I think that you must know what I mean. 

Bert. We are living in America, not Europe. 

Ida. People who tr}^ to imitate foreign ways sometimes succeed in 
forgetting their own. 

Bert. You like me, do you not? 

Ida. Yes, I do. I always have, and always shall, I think. But a 
person who stands on a precipice, and sees a sunny land below, 
must learn not to try to get to it, in case there be too much risk 
of a plunge and a fall. 

Bert. Do you apply that to yourself ? 

Ida. Yes, and to you. 

Bert. You are right. You are on the height, and I am in the valley. 
I wonder if my father, when he left me so much money, ever imag- 
ined how heavy I might find it — if I ever wanted to climb upward. 
I wonder if my mother imagines how she's trying to add to the 
weight, when she's advising me to marry more money. Miss Ida, 
it's hard to live in a world where one was meant to go with 
others and to find himself obliged to live alone — his purest mo- 



46 The Son of a Millionaire. 

tives misrepresented, his kindest deeds misunderstood, the members 
of his own family his worst enemies, and everyone to whom he 
feels that he should most like to look for an exchange of sympathy 
so situated as to think that it can't and shouldn't be given; and 
all this because he's the son of a millionaire. 

CURTAIN. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 47 

ACT IV. 

As a Senior in College. 

Scene: The same as in Act III, the time about a year later than in 
that. The rising curtain reveals Mrs. VanWorth seated on one 
side of the table, and Doctor Cator seated on its other side. As 
usual, she wears an outdoor walking suit. The Doctor^s hat is on 
the table. 

Doctor. It's a very serious matter for a man in my position to in- 
terfere in a case of this kind. 

Mrs. VanWorth. But you understand, Doctor, we are in a situa- 
tion in which we can afford to make it worth your while. 

Doctor. In one sense, yes ; in another sense, no. It's never worth 
while for a business man to allow himself to risk being put out 
of his business. It's the business of a scientist, like myself, to 
look into facts. He would soon be put out of it if he were dis- 
covered overlooking them. 

Mrs. VanWorth. But we should ask from you nothing of that 
sort. All we want is a little expert testimony with reference to 
what nobody can deny — the abnormal development in Bert of 
these eccentric tendencies. 

Doctor. I'm walling to admit the eccentricity, of course. Nothing 
could be more eccentric than for the ordinary millionaire to give 
away money. But this is hardly enough to prove insanity. He 
pretends to have reasons for his action. Some of them, I must 
confess, appear even to me to be good and practical. At least 
they fail to afford any proof that his mind has given way. Until 
I get that proof it's impossible for me to sign a certificate saying 
that I have it. 

Mrs. VanWorth. And without the certificate impossible to get him 
into an asylum? 

Doctor. Yes. 

Mrs. VanWorth. We might get the certificate from some one else. 
But you are our family physician. In time, I think, they are sure 
to consult you. 

Doctor. There's danger of it, yes. 

Mrs. VanWorth. But we must stop Bert in some way. Think 
what his action means for myself and my daughter. 

Doctor. He has not touched your money or her money, has he? 

Mrs. VanWorth. No ; how could he ? 

Doctor. Only that of which he himself, having attained the legal 
age, has come into possession ? 



48 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Mrs. VanWorth. Certainly, 

Doctor, He's not using anything of yours, then? He's not harm- 
ing you? 

Mrs, VanWorth. Why, Doctor, how you talk! He's doing his 
best, apparently, to make me the mother, and his sister the sis- 
ter, of a poor man ! He never can live in the same style in which 
we live — not even associate with us on terms of equality. 

Doctor. I understand that he's not intending to give away every- 
thing. 

Mrs. VanWorth, No; but almost everything. He has already 
deeded away one of our large country houses — one of which, too, 
my daughter and myself were both very fond. Now, if we wanted 
to go there, we shouldn't have a right to even a roof over our 
heads. 

Doctor. I appreciate your feelings, Mrs. VanWorth ; yet it hardly 
warrants you — does it? — in arresting him, and keeping him in con- 
finement ? 

Mrs. VanWorth. Oh, you know, we should do him no harm! He 
would have every comfort, and we should only detain him long 
enough to teach him a little sense — till he was old enough to be 
reasonable. 

Doctor. Do you think it would be justifiable, Mrs. VanWorth, to 
shadow his future influence by letting everybody know that his 
own family once thought him incompetent, if not an imbecile? 

Mrs. VanWorth (rising impatiently and wringing her hands). But 
we must do something. If you'll not help us we must look else- 
where. I am greatly disappointed in you, Doctor. 

Doctor (rising). I dislike to disappoint any one, Mrs. VanWorth. 
But — you will excuse me for saying it — I do it for your own good. 
When you look elsewhere, you are likely to be disappointed there, 
too, unless the one you consult is a scoundrel ; and the less you 
have to do with scoundrels the better. 

Mrs. VanWorth (straightening up). You are frank, Doctor 
Cator. 

Doctor. I am. I'm an old friend of the family ; and never more of 
a friend than just at this crisis. You're at core a sensible woman, 
Mrs. VanWorth ; and I'm very sure that, after you've given a 
little serious thought to the subject, you'll change your mind with 
reference both to the matter itself and to my attitude regarding it. 

Mrs. VanWorth. What am I to do, then? 

Doctor. Exactly what all the rest of us have to do when things 
go against us — make the best of the situation, notwithstanding a 
temptation — as in your case, Mrs, VanWorth — to make the worst 
of it. 

Enter — Left Second — Bert, 



The Son of a Millionaire. 4^ 

Bert (zvJwse manner has become, to a marked degree, more light- 
hearted and enthusiastic than hitherto). Good morning, mother 
(to Mrs. VanWorth). Good morning, Doctor (to the Doctor). 
Have you told mother what I said to you yesterday? Perhaps 
she'll understand it better coming from you. You know she's 
never been through college, and studied foreign languages — I 
mean, now, languages foreign to the lingo of her own little and 
exclusive set. (To Mrs. VanWorth) Oh, yes, it is little, mother, 
in more ways than one. (To the Doctor) I have been through 
college; and I know just how foreign people — I mean people for- 
eign to our little ways of living — look upon the son of a million- 
aire — just how much they open their hearts to him, and let him 
share their sympathies. As a rule, whether enemies or friends, 
they don't want him to share anything in that direction. They 
want all the shares themselves. Your millionaire is like a drop 
cast up from the sea on a sunny day, reflecting all the colors of 
the rainbow — (to Mrs. VanWorth) so you think, riiother, and, to 
an extent, your thought is true. But besides this, there is some- 
thing else that's also true. The drop is usually dashed high up 
onto a clifif, where it stays and expires alone and useless. Mean- 
time the great ocean of humanity, to live and work in which and 
with which, and for which, is all that makes life to other men 
really worth the living, moves on to accomplish its destiny with- 
out probably one serious contribution from himself. (To the Doc- 
tor) Do you know, I've just got the report from the Sound place. 
The parlor, library, and dining-room are exactly what we need 
for school-rooms and refectory; and almost all the bedrooms can 
be cut up into three or four small ones ; and, with the servants' 
quarters, the accommodations will be perfect. 

Doctor. Which was it that you were planning to use that for? 

Bert. Why, I told you — for that Junior Republic. The farm con- 
tains over five hundred acres, you know. Besides that, I've en- 
dowed it with about a quarter of a million — some of the best 
securities that I have. 

A knocking at the door. Bert opens it. 

Enter — Left Second — Hugh and Ida. 

Bert. Why, good day. Miss Ida — glad to see you in the room once 

more. (To his Mother and the Doctor) Mother, Doctor. 
(Ida, Hugh, the Doctor and Mrs. VanWorth exchange bows, the 

latter with apparent stiifness, the Doctor only rising.) 
Bert (to Hugh). Back from vacation, I suppose? The law school 

seems to have agreed with you. 
Hugh. Perhaps I have had an easier life — haven't had to take care 

of a chum. (Looking around) Roomed alone the whole year? 



50 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Bert. Yes ; the room couldn't go back on its record. No Freshman 
son of a millionaire put in an appearance, so I had to scrape on 
as best I could alone. {A college chorus is heard from the out- 
side) Hello! — a serenade, eh? I think I recognize the crowd! 
{Knocking at the Left Second. Bert opens the door. Dan, Ben, 
Pete and others march in, single Me, singing. When they see 
Mrs. VanWorth and the Doctor Ihey suddenly stop) Don't 
stop ! Keep on ! Everybody here wants to hear you ! Glad to 
see you all; but finish your serenade first. {The singers sing 
through their chorus) How are you? All glad to get back — 
not so? {Introducing the strangers) This is my mother and 
Doctor Cator. Mr. Wylie, Mr. Bennett, Mr. Strong, Mr. Smith, 
Mr. Jones, graduates of last year ! {All, including Hugh and 
Ida, exchange greetings. The Doctor gives Ida a chair, and both 
sit. Dan apparently talks to Ida.) 

Ben {to Bert). I want to congratulate you, Bert. 

Bert. Upon what? 

Ben. Why, on being class-orator. It's the biggest honor the class 

gives, isn't it? 
Bert. I believe so — rather foolish to run me ! I never sought for 

any office, you know. 
Ben. The very reason why the office sought you, perhaps ! They 

say there was no one to run against you. 
Hugh. They hadn't forgotten his own refusing to run against 

axiybody for the athletic presidency, last year. 
Bert. That was a case of being cornered, and choosing the only 

possible way out. To get honor for myself I was supposed to be 

getting dishonor for my supporters — to be trying to get ballots 

through bribery. 
Hugh. But very few thought that, Bert. 
Bert. A very few things when they burn can make smoke; and 

very little smoke can dim everybody's outlook. 
Ben. You are going to accept this office, though? 
Bert. Yes, I can now. I'm no longer a millionaire — more nearly 

on an equality with the rest of the fellows. 
Ben. What do you mean? 
Doctor. Why, he's given his property away. 
Pete. Given everything away? 
Bert. Oh, no ; not everything ! Not such a fool as that ! Not such 

a sponge, either ! To live at the expense of the public in an alms- 
house makes a man as much of a public nuisance as to live in 

the same way in a palace. 
Doctor. How are you going to preserve the balance, Bert, between 

the two extremes? 
Bert. Precisely as I preserve every balance of the kind, — ^by using 

my judgment. 



The Son of a Millionaire. 51 

Doctor. But, in this case, the judgment involves what seems rather 
complicated. You are not choosing between poverty — or, say, 
socialism — on the one side, and wealth — or say aristocracy — on 
the other side. You are trying to take a little from both sides. 

Bert. Yes; because both sides are made up of parts, and I don't 
think my judgment will have done its perfect work until it has 
tried to distinguish between some, at least, of these parts. There 
are arguments, as we all know, in favor of getting things at 
wholesale as well as at retail — or in detail, as one might say; but, 
for practical purposes, a good deal of what one gets at wholesale 
is of no use. I am perfectly aware that most minds lump things ; 
but the more rational a mind is the more it discriminates, and so 
discards what is of no use. I try to be rational; so, on the one 
hand, I'm not a socialist; because I believe in personal responsi- 
bility. I think a man has a right to certain possessions, a right to a 
certain amount of wealth, a right to save, by himself and for him- 
self, what, by and by, when unable to work, will support himself 
and his family. But, on the other hand, I'm not an aristocrat; 
because I believe in responsibility for others. I think no man has 
a right to excessive wealth, to put into his own coffers what is 
needed for the support of his fellowmen and their families. Hoard- 
ing up money beyond what one can use is like hoarding up fruit 
of the same kind. It tends to rot. It makes the individual self- 
centered, inconsiderate, mean, immoral. It makes the community 
lose faith in republican institutions, and fail to practice that love 
of humanity which underlies them. 

Pete. Oh, you're going in with our classmates, Bob Martin and 
Jack Sharp, eh? 

Bert, How so? 

Pete. Why, they are millionaires. 

Bert. And what have they done? 

Pete. Why, you know ! Bob has written a play, and Jack a novel, 
both of them intended to show up the profligate lives of pleasure 
led by the millionaires. 

Bert. I haven't read their effusions. Are they interesting? 

Pete. Well, rather ! 

Bert. I should think they would be. Accounts of profligacy usu- 
ally are. 

Pete. But these, you know, are founded on facts. 

Bert. On all the facts? Anything less than all the truth, you 
know, is never the whole truth. As a fact, most millionaires that 
I know are not profligate. If they were, or had been for any 
length of time, they wouldn't be millionaires. Nor are their 
pleasures profligate. If they were, or had been for any length of 
time, they wouldn't be pleasures. 

Pete. Then you don't think there's corruption underneath the sur- 
face of millionaires' society? 



52 The Son of a Millionaire. 

Bert. Plenty of it. But I'm not sure that you can correct it by 
directing attention to the surface. I infer, from what you say, 
that these writings make this appear rather attractive. 

Pete. That's true enough. 

Bert. How many people, do you suppose, look beneath the surface 
of anything? I am inclined to believe that most men would start 
out to walk over the quicksands of the bottomless pit if only the 
sun should happen to strike the surface so as to make it seem, for 
the time being, a little bright. 

Pete. Then you don't approve of writing about the evils of so- 
ciety? 

Bert. It all depends on how it's done. I don't believe in writing 
about evils and, at the same time, not trying to right them. 

Pete. But Dick and Jack say that's what they are trying to do. 

Bert. They could do it much more effectively. 

Pete. How ? 

Bert. If they think that it's the millionaires that cause society to 
be corrupt it's their first duty to cease to be millionaires. 

(Dan, Ben and Pete look incredulous. The Doctor makes a move- 
ment of the shoulders, as if to say, "That's what I told you.") 

Pete. How could they? 

Bert. Until our Government, actuated by the motive of self- 
preservation, makes hereditary aristocracy obtained through wealth 
impossible, and democracy inevitable, by a law limiting — not ac- 
quisition doing which would paralyze progress by preventing en- 
terprise, but limiting — inheritance to something, say, not more 
than one million, the heirs of these millionaires should show their 
patriotism, as well as philanthrophy by voluntarily surrendering 
their unneeded surplus. 

Mrs. VanWorth (to the Doctor as she rises). Doctor, I am not 
feeling well. 

(Bert goes to her side, as does the Doctor. Dan, Ben, Pete and 
the other students, as if thinking themselves in the way, after 
exchanging bozvs with the rest in the room, move toivard the Left 
Second Entrance.) 

Exeunt — Left Second — Dan, Pete, Ben and other students. 

(Bert accompanies his mother to the Left Second Entrance. She 
gestures to him that she does not need his services.) 

Exeunt — Left Second — Dr. Cator and Mrs. VanWorth. 

(Hugh and Ida come toward the Left Second Entran-cc as if to 
leave.) 



The Son of a Millionaire. 53 

Bert. Don't go, please. She says she doesn't need me. Only a 
feint on her part, I think, to get away ! 

Hugh. I'm glad to. see you a moment alone, Bert. I understand 
that you have endowed my father's professorship? 

Bert. Yes ; I couldn't find a better cause, could I ? 

Hugh. It's impossible for me to tell you how thankful I am. 

Ida. And I, too. 

Bert. Wait here a minute, please, I've something now to tell you. 
Some months ago, before my saving box began to leak, I myself 
applied for a professorship here. 

Hugh. And promised to endow it? 

Bert. Now, Hugh — even you? It's the last time, I trust, that any- 
one will ask such a question of me. No ; I didn't promise to en- 
dow it; but I was not so sensitive about their being influenced 
by that hope as not to exercise common sense — more, I think, 
than Doctor Cator or my esteemed mother would willingly accord 
me. I argued this way : that if they imagined that I would en- 
dow it, I couldn't prevent their exercising their own imagination. 
I could, however, do this thing. I could withhold promises, and 
make the only ground for their expectation what they knew of my 
character in general. If, in judging of it, they chose to lump my 
character and my wealth together, that was not my fault but my 
father's ; and I should leave them welcome to do it. Well, they 
have given me the professorship — as nearly as I could get any- 
thing — on my own merits. The arrangement is that I shall spend 
two years studjang in Europe, before I come back to take it. Of 
course, I foot the bills. 

Hugh. Just the thing for you, Bert; just the thing! I congratulate 
you most heartily. 

Ida. And I, too. 

Bert. Wait a minute. Miss Ida. Hugh can listen, if he chooses. 
I think he knows my sentiments on this subject already. Let me 
ask you, honestly now, young lady, wouldn't you like to continue 
living on here in your own old college town ? 

Ida. No sense in my trying to deny that ! 

Bert. And wouldn't you like to spend two years in Europe before 
settling down here? 

Ida. Why — 

Bert (taking her to his arms). Yes, I know you would. (To 
Hugh) Hugh, you have heard me complain a good deal about 
the situation in life allotted me. I've been thinking, lately, that 
success may not depend upon situations as much as on ourselves ; 
not upon conditions as much as on the way in which we meet and 
master them. If we ourselves manage them as we should it's pos- 
sible to find a blessing as well as a bane in being born the son of 
a millionaire. 

END. 



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DEC 88 




N. MANCHESTER, 
5^5^ INDIANA 46962 



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